Rope slung over her shoulder in case she needed it, hatchet tucked into her belt, Michelle clambered up the trunk with Lana’s help until she was able to grasp the branch and haul herself the rest of the way up. Perched unsteadily at the crook where the branch met the trunk, she looked down in the pale circle of Lana’s face.
“For God’s sakes, be careful,” Lana said, voice tight, her concern evident.
“I will,” Michelle promised untruthfully. “Signal me if anyone comes.”
“Signal how?”
“Whistle. You do know how to whistle, don’t you?”
“Oh, for Chrissakes,” Lana snapped, clearly recognizing the movie reference. But she moved off a little to keep a lookout, arms wrapped around herself as she leaned into the fierce wind, long dark hair whipping beneath her wool toque.
A wind that made her going even more perilous. Michelle had to test every hand and foothold, careful not to slip on the slick bark. More than once, she had to use the hatchet as a climbing ax, wincing as she cut into the wood and hoping she wasn’t doing any kind of lasting damage to the stately tree. It was, after all, the enduring protector of its treasure. The rope turned out to be more nuisance than help, and halfway up, she let it drop down with a hissed warning for Lana to watch out. As she resumed her ascent, her hold grew more precarious, her body more exposed to the wind and mist as the branches thinned.
Then she was there, near the top, the entire tree swaying alarmingly back and forth, making her dizzy. Or perhaps it was the exhilaration that was making her light-headed as she stared at the gnarled knot located where the branch met the trunk, just underneath, sheltered from the elements all these centuries.
Hand shaking, she reached into the small hollow, and her heart leaped as she felt the outlines of a small box beneath her fingertips. She closed her eyes and, just for a moment, savored the thrill of her discovery, the knowledge that the cross had been here all along, unseen and unknown, while all the historians and archeologists had dug and explored beneath, never really seeing what had been in their midst all along.
Carefully, she drew it out into view. It was metal, corroded but still intact, and she wanted nothing more than to open it, but she was a hundred feet up in the air during a rainstorm with a death grip on the trunk and her feet planted on an icy branch. It would have to wait, as much as she might wish otherwise. She zipped open her jacket and tucked the box inside, the metal ice-cold against her chest, but she barely noticed the discomfort as she began her descent, trying not to rush even though every molecule in her body wanted nothing more than to be on the ground.
Halfway down, reaching for a branch, she slipped. Fear replaced her exhilaration as she was suddenly out of control, gravity seizing her with ruthless force. She didn’t know how many branches she hit on the way down. They served to break her descent, but they hurt, and then abruptly, she was free of them and falling the rest of the way to the ground, where she landed in the snow on her back, the air exploding out of her like a popped balloon. For a few seconds, she couldn’t get her lungs to work, and her only consolation was that she had found the cross and trusted Lana enough to know she would give her full credit for the discovery, posthumously as it was.
“Holy Christ, Michelle, are you all right?” Her classic features panicked, Lana leaned over her, and Michelle was surprised she could still see her. She supposed that meant she was still alive, and then the pain rushed in, assuring her that, at least for the moment, she was.
“I don’t know,” she managed to croak. “I fell.”
“I saw,” Lana said. “You sounded like a sack of potatoes when you landed. Don’t move. I’ll call the EMTs.”
“No, don’t,” Michelle said, raising her hand to forestall her. Wincing, she tested a few things. “I think I’m okay. I can feel everything. I don’t think anything’s broken. Help me up.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Lana said, her tone a touch annoyed now. “Michelle, seriously, you fell out of a tree.”
“I know, and I’m fine,” Michelle said, forcing herself up into a sitting position. “Just had the wind knocked out of me for a moment. The snow cushioned my fall.”
And several branches, she added silently, feeling the multitude of painful spots now clamoring for attention. She hoped it was just from bruising and not anything more serious.
“Help me up.”
Shaking her head, Lana reached down and supported her as she managed to get to her feet. Upright, Michelle reassessed her condition and decided that her initial diagnosis was correct and that she was a great deal luckier than she deserved. With Lana’s arm around her, they started the arduous journey back to the Jeep, slipping and sliding in the snow as the wind and rain blasted them unmercifully.
Finally inside the shelter of the vehicle, Lana started the engine and air began blasting from the vents, at first cold but warming up quickly. Michelle’s hands shook as she pulled the box from inside her coat.
“Turn on the overhead light,” she croaked as she rested the box on her lap. After stripping off her gloves, her fingers trembled as she fumbled with the tiny latch. She hoped she wouldn’t have to pry it open. It was a simple box, devoid of ornamentation, made of tin or perhaps silver. It was hard to tell. She managed to slip her nail beneath the hook, and with an effort, she pried it open.
There was a packet, something wrapped in oilskin, and her heart pounded, making her chest feel hollow, as she carefully uncovered what was inside. It was a folded parchment, a letter of some kind, covered in scrawled handwriting, faded and barely visible, written in French. Michelle heard a sound, unaware it was coming from her, a thin sound of shock and grief.
There was no cross here, gold or otherwise.
Chapter Twelve
Lana shut the door quietly behind her, not wanting to wake Michelle. She had finally fallen asleep, and Lana hoped that the restoring properties of slumber would heal a bit of the utter devastation Michelle had experienced. She had barely said a word since that moment in the Jeep when she opened the box to discover, not the cross as she’d expected, but just another mystery. Back at the motel, Lana had convinced her to take a hot shower and change into a T-shirt before getting into bed. By the time she’d drifted off, the tears drying on her cheeks, the pale gray of dawn was filtering through the motel window.
Exhausted, but unable to sleep, Lana decided to get some fresh air and some breakfast. In the east, the sky was brightening as the dark clouds from the night before began to clear. The sun, unseen for too many days, appeared on the horizon, bright and dazzling, and for a brief moment, the golden rays made her feel a bit better. She hoped some food in her belly and, more importantly, some hot coffee, would further ease her disappointment, though she doubted anything would ever grant solace to Michelle’s shattered heart.
As she crossed the parking lot, heading for the diner, the bright-red color of a Dodge Challenger parked a few doors down caught her eye. She paused to admire its sporty lines, stunned as the door to that motel unit opened and Emily Stone came out. Dressed in a lined leather brown bomber jacket, jeans and boots, her thick, blond hair hanging loose around her face and spilling down her back, she looked completely different out of uniform.
Emily spotted her, the pale-blue eyes lighting up, and she lifted her hand in a small gesture of greeting. “Lana, are you all right?”
Lana blinked and nodded, astonished. “I’m fine,” she said. “Why? What are you doing here?”
“I read your note.” Emily’s expression became serious. “What the hell are you thinking, Lana?”
Startled, Lana laughed. “I didn’t expect you to get it so soon.” She paused. “Wait, how did you get it? What were you doing in my house? I haven’t even been gone a day.”
Emily lowered her head, looking shamed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I was worried about you. A rental car washed up in Lattie’s Brook and I guess—I don’t know why, but I had a suspicion it belonged to your friend.” She lifted her eyes, meeting
Lana’s gaze. “I went to your place and it was empty, even though you said you weren’t going anywhere for a few days. So I used your spare key.”
“And you followed us here?”
“Well, I knew you were heading for Grand-Pré, and this was the closest motel. I got in late last night, booked the last room they had, and was going to look for you this morning. I guess I don’t have to now.” Her familiar features grew stern, more authoritative. “Lana, you can’t break into a historic site. You’re not that person.”
“Uh,” Lana began, squirming a bit. “That’s—uh, it’s sort of water under the bridge at this point. And we didn’t break in, exactly. We just sort of—well, trespassed a little.”
Emily stared at her, gaze darkening, but after a second, she let out her breath, almost a sigh. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
“Yes and no,” Lana said, then felt her stomach rumble. “Can I tell you the rest over breakfast?”
Emily hesitated, apparently surprised, then suddenly smiled. It was an amazing smile, changing her whole face, and Lana found it suddenly hard to inhale. “Sure, on me,” she said. “The diner?”
“Why not?” Lana responded, falling into step with her. “They do have a breakfast menu. No hash browns, though.”
“I’ll have to make do,” Emily deadpanned, and Lana laughed heartily. It seemed to surprise Emily again, and the glance she shot her as they sat down at the table was a mix of uncertainty and delight. “So, what happened last night?”
The prompt arrival of the waitress interrupted Lana’s reply, and they spent the next few minutes ordering: omelet and toast for her, two eggs over easy, ham, and toast for Emily. Once the waitress left, Lana filled Emily in on the events of the previous evening or, in this case, hours earlier in the darkest part of the early morning.
“So you haven’t been to sleep for twenty-four hours,” Emily said, once she was finished, worry evident in her light eyes. Lana was surprised but touched that was her main concern.
“No, I haven’t,” Lana admitted, and suddenly stifled a yawn. “Still too excited to sleep, I guess.”
“Is that why you’re doing this? Because it’s exciting?”
Startled, Lana looked inside herself. “I suppose,” she said slowly. “It’s just—it’s been so long since anything has felt—good, you know?”
“I do.” Emily paused, a shadow ghosting over her face. “So you and this Devereaux woman, you’re together now?”
“Oh, God, no,” Lana responded without thinking. Then she stopped, embarrassed. “I mean, I wanted to help her out. It’s an adventure. And it’s got me out of the house, at least.”
“That it did,” Emily said, her features severe. “But lying to a police officer, trespassing on federal land, disturbing a national historical site? Not exactly what I’d recommend for an adventure.”
Lana winced. “Yes, how much trouble are we in, exactly?”
Emily maintained her stern expression for a few seconds more and then relaxed, the furrow between her brow disappearing. “Well, apparently there are no witnesses to your trespass, and it wouldn’t be fair to charge you on the basis of things told to me as a friend. Those are only finable offenses, anyway, not the sort that require criminal proceedings. As for Devereaux, if she reports what happened, then I doubt anything will come of losing the car. Since there were no injuries, technically, she has five days to report it before she’s held accountable, and insurance will cover it. I’m more concerned by the fact that she said she was run off the road by these two men. Do you know that for a fact?”
Lana thought about it. “It’s what she told me. Why would she lie? And the two men do exist. The innkeeper said she saw them. In fact, I think they were the ones who broke into the church yesterday morning.”
“God, okay. I’ll take her to the detachment in Wolfville. It’s the closest,” Emily said, sounding exasperated. “She can make a statement there.” She shook her head, as if shaking off dark thoughts. “So much for my day off.”
“This is your day off?” Lana asked, stricken. “And you wasted it looking for me? I’m so sorry.”
Emily blinked as if taken aback and regarded her intently. “I’m not. And looking for you is never a waste of my time, Lana. Ever.”
“Oh.” Lana felt heat rise in her cheeks. So Michelle had been right. Emily was interested in her. How could she have missed that? “Still, it’s a shame you have to deal with this.”
“I have a long weekend. It’s not a problem.” Emily dropped her head, suddenly seeming a little bashful as her eyes skidded away from Lana’s. “Besides, I didn’t know about all the events going on this weekend. Otherwise, I might have asked you to go with me.”
“Oh.” Lana considered that comment for a second, surprised at how much it pleased her. And intrigued her. “Who knows? I might have said yes.”
“Really?” Emily lifted her head, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she smiled.
“Absolutely.” Lana glanced around, feeling a bit vulnerable. “You know, it’s too early for the brunch the inn is hosting, but I heard there were other events going on this afternoon at Acadia University. Seminars and various displays regarding women’s cultural studies.”
“Well, if I can wrap things up with Devereaux this morning, maybe we can go check some of them out,” Emily said casually, then sobered. “Where is she now, anyway?”
“In our room. She finally fell asleep, poor thing. I guess she’ll probably want to go home as soon as she can. I should drive her to the airport.”
“There’s a car-rental place in New Minas,” Emily said immediately. “She can get a new vehicle there. I’ll go with her and smooth over the loss of her previous vehicle. We wouldn’t want her to remain in the province any longer than she has to.”
Lana swallowed back her smile, realizing a little jealousy flavored Emily’s comments. She found it oddly flattering.
Then, as Lana realized what she was thinking, she did smile because she knew Sarah would be laughing at her at this point. The corresponding surge of sorrow and grief that the thought of her wife always inspired wasn’t nearly as overpowering this time, and Lana hoped that was a sign that she was ready to, if not move on completely from her loss, then at least to start experiencing life again.
As if going off on a treasure hunt with a complete stranger wasn’t proof enough of that already, she scoffed internally. It was just too bad there hadn’t been a payoff of some kind, assuming one didn’t count the opportunity to get to know Emily a bit better. And wasn’t this how she used to be, before Sarah’s death? Someone who’d never been afraid of taking a chance? Someone who’d enjoyed life to the fullest? Rediscovering that part of her was a treasure in itself.
She leaned back as their food arrived, and for the next few minutes, they were busy buttering toast, breaking the top of the yolks for dipping and forking up the tasty mix of eggs, ham, cheese, onions, green peppers, and mushrooms. Lana was impressed at how delicious it was, or perhaps she was just able to taste it fully again after not having much of an appetite for so long.
“What will happen to the two men?” she asked, sipping her orange juice.
“Well, after Devereaux makes her statement, there’ll be an arrest warrant put out for them. It’s her word against theirs about the accident, of course, but if they’re driving the same car, the FIS might be able to match paint and damage to the rental car, and if they did break into the church, some of the artifacts might still be on them. That would initiate a list of charges that would put them behind bars for quite a while.”
“FIS?”
“Forensic Identification Services,” Emily explained. “You know, like the CSI people on television, except, of course, they don’t carry guns or question witnesses or chase after suspects. They just do the science.”
“Right. I should have figured that out.”
Emily shrugged. “It’s just lingo. Hang out with me long enough and you’ll pick up on it.”
“M
aybe I will,” Lana said, and daringly touched Emily’s hand that was resting on the table.
Emily glanced up and met her eyes, and for a moment, the heat in that gaze was enough to take Lana’s breath away. But she didn’t say anything else, and Lana realized she was the one who would have to make all the moves, that Emily wasn’t about to press the issue in any way.
A whole new adventure worth pursuing.
Chapter Thirteen
Michelle’s eyelids were gummy and stuck together when she woke. It was an effort to open them and her head felt hollow, as if she’d been unconscious rather than merely asleep. On the other hand, she thought as she sat up, raking her fingers through her tangled hair, maybe she had been. Maybe falling out of that tree had left her concussed. Not that anyone would care. She certainly didn’t.
Dully, she looked across the room, wondering idly where Lana was. A glance at the digital clock on the nightstand let her know she’d been asleep for about four hours. Just enough to leave her feeling logy and drained of energy. Her gaze settled on the metal box sitting forlornly on the dresser, and immediately, she felt sick. She’d gambled everything on this trip, using up her meager savings and maxing out her cards for plane tickets and rental car, taking a leap that her research would pay off financially, economically, and emotionally, proving once and for all that she knew what she was doing. Instead, all she had left was a credit-card debt, unemployment, and an utter sense of failure.
Sliding out of bed, she tottered over to the dresser, where she stared at the box, trying to find some kind of solace in knowing that it dated from 1755. It might be worth something, though Acadian artifacts weren’t exactly a booming business in the illegal-antiquities trade. Exhaling heavily, she opened the box and pulled out the parchment, unfolding it as carefully as she could, acutely aware she should be using protective gloves while handling it, but not really concerned about it at this point.
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