Somewhere To Spend Christmas

by Clay, Verna

  It is a sad state of affairs that my husband, the man I once loved, was more devoted to his business affairs than to his family, for Rose loved him dearly, even though he shunned her. When she was three, he confronted me once again about Rose being Sebastian's daughter, and even though I swore she wasn't, he knew I was lying, and that's when my nightmare became intolerable. A week later she was gone and I knew Randall was to blame. Never had I considered he could do something so reprehensible, and now it was I who confronted him and demanded the truth. He laughed and said I would never see her again unless I did as he said. He said her disappearance was my punishment for committing adultery. He said she was safe with a loving family and they would send one picture every year on her birthday, but if I notified the police it would not bode well for Sebastian's daughter, and I would never see her again.

  And thus began my decline and withdrawal from society. My only joy was the photo I was allowed to see each year of my precious daughter. After sixteen years, I knew she had grown into a beautiful woman, and I could see by her countenance that her life had been good. It was then that I resigned myself to die. My health quickly declined until I lost all energy and I mostly sat in my chair staring out my bedroom window.

  However, Providence had another plan for me, and for Randall. During a visit from one of his San Francisco acquaintances, whose family accompanied him, Randall fell in love with their young daughter, Alyssa. I could see in his eyes and by the way he treated her that he was deeply in love. She brought something out of him that I had never seen, not even in his courtship to me. And it was then that I literally dreamed of a way to become reunited with my daughter. With my heart in my throat, I approached Randall and told him he would be free to marry Alyssa if I was dead. And then I revealed my plan. Much to my surprise, and evidence as to how much he loved her, he agreed. The plan was for me to disappear, like my daughter, so that after a time the court would declare me dead. And because of my melancholy over the years and frequent solitary walks on the beach, most likely it would be assumed that I had simply walked into the ocean.

  And now, because I harbor ill will toward the man who has robbed me of my dearest love, my daughter, I write these words in the hope that someday the truth will be known and his evil exposed, even if it's only to one person. Perhaps my bitterness in writing this diary will bode ill for me in the hereafter, but I cannot deviate from my desire for revenge; so I now leave this horrendous accounting (as my revenge) hidden in plain sight in the secret compartment of the leg of my desk, as testament against my husband as I leave for New York.

  Vicky closed the diary and returned her thoughts to the investigator's report which disclosed an address in New York and additional details.

  27: Request

  Michael closed the folder with his copies of the investigative reports about Belinda Hope and tapped his fingers on his desk. Part of the mystery of the woman had been solved, but the reason for her disappearance had not, and he knew in his gut that Vicky had discovered something significant about the decades old mystery.

  He walked to the bank of windows and stared at the Willamette River below, wishing his life would get back on track. For months a feeling of only going through the motions of living had plagued him, and it had only gotten worse after spending Thanksgiving with Vicky at Gabby Hope's home.

  He sighed and returned to his desk to shuffle through inquiries from firms wanting contracts in some phase of the construction of Somewhere's resort. All of his resorts were built by the same general contractor who coordinated with Michael in subcontracting portions of the work to local businesses and those in nearby towns.

  Since the final approval for the resort had been voted by the council, he was now negotiating the price of the beach property and he should have been ecstatic, but he wasn't. He kept remembering Vicky's brave attempts to thwart him.

  Punching the button on his intercom he said, "Lettie, cancel my appointments for the remainder of today and all of tomorrow. I'm going to Somewhere."

  She responded, "One of your appointments has been waiting three weeks to see you about a real estate opportunity in Belize."

  "Reschedule the appointment for another day that works for them, even if it means we have to meet after hours."

  "Yes, sir." She hesitated and then gushed, "It does my heart good to see you spending less time at the office."

  Michael smiled at his secretary's remark. She was now in mother-mode.

  Four hours later, after changing into comfortable clothing, Michael pulled to the front of the museum. His heart jumped when he entered and saw Vicky in one of her Victorian outfits. "You look lovely."

  Her expression registered surprise at seeing him, delight at his compliment, and then her usual disapproval. The sound of visitors descending the stairway waylaid any conversation and Michael told her he would wait in the parlor. Vicky nodded and turned her attention to the visitors.

  Michael strolled around the parlor/gift shop picking up trinkets now and again while he waited for Vicky. When she finally joined him she said, "This is a surprise." Then her expression changed to one of excitement. "Did you learn more about Belinda?"

  "No. But I do have a request. I want to know what you discovered that sent you searching for a woman who disappeared decades ago."

  Vicky's expression morphed from excitement to indifference. "I don't know what you're talking about."

  Michael stepped until he was directly in front of her. "Yes, you do. And now you owe me an explanation."

  Anger entered Vicky's eyes. "I do not–"

  "I've repaid my debt with two reports and it's only right that you don't leave me in the dark."

  Vicky glanced away and said softly, "You can never repay stealing Somewhere from its citizens."

  Folding his arms across his chest, Michael refused to be intimidated. A couple of times Vicky glanced at him, and then glanced away. Finally, she said, "Watch the front door and I'll return in a minute." She then hastened from the room.

  The front door opened and Michael realized he was now the greeter and cashier. He grinned and walked to the front desk.

  By the time Vicky returned, he had received twenty-five dollars to cover the entrance fee for five guests and was now handing them brochures and giving highlights of some of the rooms. "And there's a great mystery that's never been solved." He glanced at Vicky. "A woman and her daughter, years apart, mysteriously disappeared without traces." As expected, the two female guests gasped. He continued, "The brochure gives all the information that is known." He motioned toward the dining room. "The dining room and kitchen are good places to start your exploration of this magnificent home."

  The visitors thanked him, smiled at Vicky, commented on her period clothing, and walked toward the dining room. After they entered, Vicky said, "Michael, I'm going to allow you to read something that you have to promise you'll keep secret."

  Michael was surprised and pleased to hear her use his first name and place some trust in him. Seriously, he said, "I promise."

  She reached into her pocket and removed a small leather pouch and bit her bottom lip. Michael inwardly groaned. Vicky had no idea how sensual her action was, and her naivety only increased his desire to kiss her.

  "I found this diary written by Belinda that solved the mystery of her and Rose's disappearances, but not pinpointing exactly where they went in New York. That's why I asked you to hire an investigator."

  "How did you find the diary?"

  Vicky bit her bottom lip again. "I'm not telling." She handed the pouch to him.

  Michael accepted it, but in the process gave in to his desire. He leaned down and touched his lips to Vicky's, gently kissing her. When he stepped back her eyes were wide with shock, but before she could explode with anger, he said, "I'll bring the diary back this afternoon," and hurried out the door.

  Two hours later Michael lay on the couch in his oceanfront home and finished his second reading of the diary. It was so captivating he almost started reading it a
gain. He closed the tiny book and gently set it on the coffee table. If he were a moviemaker, this would have been an excellent selection for the big screen, and all the more desirable because it wasn't fiction.

  He sighed and placed his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. After a few minutes he decided to go for a walk on the beach. He needed to air out his head.

  The day was cold and overcast, with dark clouds gathering for a storm. He pulled the collar of his jacket up to his chin and stuffed his hands in his pockets, all the while listening to Belinda's words swirl in his head.

  It is a sad state of affairs that my husband, the man I once loved, was more devoted to his business affairs than to his family, for Rose loved him dearly, even though he shunned her.

  In those words, Michael saw a lifetime of sadness; not only for Belinda, but for Randall Hope. The man had squandered the love of an amazing woman and innocent child because of business interests, and not only acted criminally, but destroyed lives in the process. Had his love for his second wife returned his humanity? Perhaps the answer to that question was lost to eternity, but it brought up a question for Michael.

  Was he losing his own humanity in his quest to conquer Somewhere? His drive to bring his resort to a community that clearly didn't want it—a community he had come to love—had been consuming. The only reason he'd received approval for the resort was because a selfish council member had finally convinced two others to vote in his favor.

  Suddenly, and shockingly, Michael realized he was fulfilling Randall Hope's quest for a resort.

  He pressed his fingers to his eyelids. He hadn't cried since childhood, but now he couldn't hold back tears. He was a despicable person. In emotional pain, he saw Vicky's face. The woman was an angel—a brave angel who had endured heartache, the same as he, but transformed that heartache into goodness. He, on the other hand, had transformed his heartache into greed for personal gain and some kind of weird retribution against his father and mother, which was insane because they were dead.

  Standing straight again, he wiped his eyes, stared at the storm clouds that were closer, and made a decision to redeem his mistakes.

  Shortly thereafter, he returned to the museum, entered only long enough to hand Vicky the diary, kiss her forehead, and leave without a word.

  28: Trip

  Two weeks before Christmas, Vicky found herself in Brooklyn, New York with Gabby and Faith. The three women stood across the street from a three-story brownstone and huddled against the cold, discussing their next step.

  Gabby said, "I think we should just knock on the door and bluntly explain why we're here." She added with a chuckle, "And if we're told to get lost, run back to our hotel where it's warm. Thank goodness it's only a couple of blocks away."

  "Well, if you ask me, that's our only option," said Faith.

  "I agree," said Vicky. "If we don't do something soon, we'll become popsicles."

  The women gazed at each other momentarily and then Vicky led the way. On the doorstep, she rang the bell and waited with her heart in her throat. It seemed like an eternity before the door was opened by a pretty woman, probably in her late twenties, with large, thick-lashed hazel eyes, who glanced questioningly at them. "Can I help you?"

  "I hope so," said Vicky. She cleared her throat. "Ah, we're from a small town in Oregon called Somewhere and we have reason to believe that Rose Ayers, whose name was once Rose Hope and then Rose Hillstead may have been kidnapped from our town when she was a child."

  The woman's eyes widened.

  Gabby said quickly, "I know it sounds crazy, but if you will allow us to explain, you'll see why we believe this."

  There was a silent standoff for long moments as the woman assessed them and glanced past them into the street.

  "We came alone," said Faith.

  Finally, the lady stepped aside. "Please, come in."

  Vicky released a long sigh of relief. Their spur-of-the-moment decision to come to New York had been instigated by Faith. At first, Vicky had refused Faith's generous offer to cover all the expenses of the trip, but then Gabby had insisted it was a necessary step in solving the mystery that a dead woman had brought them into, and offered to pay half of the expenses. With the two women ganging up on her, Vicky hadn't stood a chance of refusing, and insisted she pay a portion of the expenses. And although she had little money because of the cost of keeping her mother in an institution, Gabby and Faith graciously acquiesced and allowed her to keep from feeling like a mooch.

  The young woman led them to a sitting room off the entry. "Please have a seat."

  Shivering with cold, Vicky sat on a lovely blue velvet loveseat and Faith sat beside her. Gabby chose a matching armchair, and the hostess sat in a chair identical to Gabby's that was across from the couch.

  The warmth of the home was beginning to seep into Vicky and she inhaled, long and deep. "I suppose I should start by telling you our names and giving some history of our town. My name is Vicky Patterson and I'm the museum curator of a home built by our town's founder Oliver Hope for his son, Randall. These ladies are my friends." She motioned toward Gabby. "Gabby Hope owns Hope Bed & Breakfast and is the widow of a descendant of Sebastian Hope, twin brother to Randall." She motioned toward Faith. "And Faith Bennison is one of the locals."

  After introductions she spent several minutes telling the story of the founding of Somewhere by Oliver Hope, and then she delved into the lives of his twin sons, Sebastian and Randall. She talked about Randall meeting Belinda in Portland, their marriage, his driving ambition to build a resort in Somewhere, the dividing of the cove into three sections, the affair between Belinda and Sebastian, the birth of Rose, and finally, the disappearance of Rose at the age of three and her mother sixteen years later.

  Vicky opened her purse to retrieve the diary resting in its protective case and handed it to the woman. "This diary, written by Belinda Hope, was recently discovered and reveals everything I just told you. Of course, the fact that Belinda's disappearance was a hoax that allowed her to rejoin her daughter wasn't known until this diary surfaced." She glanced at Gabby and Faith. "And only a few people know about its existence and the truth it contains." She became silent and waited for a response.

  The woman blew a breath and pushed a stray lock of curly, shoulder-length brunette hair behind her ear. "My name is also Rose Ayers and I was named after my great-grandmother. How did you know to come here?"

  Since Vicky had been acting as spokesperson, she said, "After reading the diary, we only knew that Belinda had gone to New York, so a private investigator was hired. He discovered that a woman named Kathryn Beaufort, which was Belinda's middle and maiden names, took up residence not far from this home, and that she volunteered at the local library until her death. He also searched adoption records for this area and discovered that your ancestors adopted a child shortly after Rose's disappearance, and that the child's name was Rose. She married at the age of twenty-four and after her parents died years later, returned with her husband to this home to live, and he died fourteen years after that."

  The young woman seemed to ponder something before changing the conversation by saying, "Would you like some coffee or tea? I also have hot chocolate. I'm sorry for not offering it sooner, but I'm understandably wary of strangers."

  Gabby replied, "Honey, believe me, I understand. I occasionally get strange people checking in at my bed and breakfast."

  Rose stood. "Come with me to the kitchen. You can sit at the island while I prepare something hot." She hesitated before adding, "And after we've talked a little more, I'll go upstairs and ask Rose, my great-grandmother, if she wants to talk with you."

  29: Rose and Rose

  Vicky entered a bedroom with cheerful red roses wallpaper and red velvet drapes opened to bring in the meager light of a dreary day. A large Persian carpet of yellow roses and green vines covered most of the wooden floor, and a white bedspread embroidered with red roses, was pulled to the waist of a tiny, white-haired woman resting against
a backdrop of pristine white pillowcases, also embroidered with red roses. Her dainty hands rested atop the bedspread.

  Although she was old and frail, her smile reminded Vicky of a youthful girl's.

  Young Rose walked to the elderly woman's bedside, bent and kissed her cheek, and said, "Grammy, these ladies have come all the way from Oregon because of a mystery. You once told me that you never wanted to be left in the dark about anything, so I think you'll find their revelation quite interesting."

  The elderly Rose's voice was weak, but excited, when she said, "Please sit. There aren't enough chairs, so someone come sit beside me." She patted her bed.

  Vicky glanced at her companions with a silent question and they nodded, so she gingerly sat on the edge of Rose's bed and introduced herself and her friends. "My name is Vicky Patterson and these are my friends Gabby Hope and Faith Bennison." She motioned toward each in turn.

  Gabby and Faith greeted Rose and expressed their honor and pleasure in meeting her and her great-granddaughter, and then waited for Vicky to continue.

  Vicky hesitated a moment and then reached for Rose's hand. "We've made some discoveries that involve you, ma'am. And I'm not sure how to begin."

  Rose gently squeezed Vicky's hand. "You've discovered the truth about my disappearance, haven't you?"

  Vicky was taken aback. "Yes. So you already know what happened?"

  "I do. Although I didn't know the fullness of the truth until my dear friend, shortly before her death, called me to her bedside to confess that she was my mother."

  Vicky exchanged glances with Gabby and Faith as a faraway look entered Rose's eyes and she continued, "As a child, I remember being taken from my home and being brought to the home of a young couple. I was told that my mother and father had died and this couple would become my new mommy and daddy. For months I cried, but eventually I grew to love these parents. Since they had never been blessed with their own child, they lavished their love and prosperity on me and I never wanted for anything." She paused as a tear trickled down her cheek.