by Diane Noble
“Wait, I’ll need my handbag.” I raced back to the house and grabbed one of Pastor Billy’s “weapons” off my kitchen table. I stuffed it into my purse and headed back outside.
Max was leaning against the car, a satisfied smile on his face. I tossed my purse into the back and slid under the steering wheel. He got in on the passenger side and we both buckled up.
The key was in the ignition. “The dash looks different,” I said as I started the engine.
“I had them add a CD player.” He reached into an inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out three CDs. “I thought you might like these.” He opened a jewel case and pushed a disc into the slot. A song by one of my favorite groups filled the air.
I turned to him and grinned. “Contemporary. Drums, bass, guitar.”
“I thought maybe it was more your style than stodgy old hymns from the last century.”
“How did you know?”
“I called Pastor Billy Joe Newborn.”
Pastor Billy had known before I talked with him this morning. I shook my head in wonder and turned up the speakers, noting the lack of a rattle. “Beautiful.”
When I looked up, Max was gazing at me with so much love in his eyes. “You understood,” I said.
He reached for my hand and nodded, his gaze still on mine. He didn’t have to say a word. The soft music continued, “There’s a sweet, sweet Presence in this place …”
“I have something to show you.” I reached for my handbag and pulled out a small copy of the Book of Common Prayer. I held it close to my heart. “I began reading this morning. The prayers are beautiful.” I felt the sting of tears and blinked to keep them from spilling. Maybe there wasn’t such a chasm between us after all. “Pastor Billy told me I needed weapons to fight with. After I saw what he’d given me, I realized he meant weapons to fight my prejudices.”
She patted the dash affectionately. “And this … this wonderful car.” I knew I would cry for sure if I didn’t start driving.
He chuckled. “I couldn’t go a lifetime without another drive with you in your Ghia,” he said. He winked at me and clutched the edge of his seat, his knuckles turning white as I put the car in reverse and turned it around.
The tires screeched as I headed out of the driveway. Oh, how I’d missed that sound. The traffic was light, the sun was just dipping below the horizon, turning the sky golden with hints of pink and orange. I drove onto the interstate and into the sunset. The feel of the wind in my hair, the wonder of Max at my side, the beauty of that moment made me catch my breath. It was a gift from the Giver of all good things. I glanced at Max and could see by his expression that he felt it too.
That evening, after another candlelight picnic by the fireplace, we moved to the sofa to avoid getting up and down from the floor. Max told me how he’d found my new Karmann Ghia online. It turned out there had been one east of the Rockies in the right color, owned by a doctor in Old Beau who’d put it up for auction on eBay. Max put in a bid—he wouldn’t say how much—won, and then enlisted Enrique’s help to pick it up and deliver it to Max’s house.
We talked about the mystery that brought us together, even the strange little puzzle pieces we hadn’t put together until later.
Juan had explained that he’d taken my street to the university the day of the explosion. He’d been so astounded to see Dr. Jane Fletcher, his History 101 professor, placing a package in my mailbox that he’d run into her car. Each had their own reasons for fleeing the scene. She, of course, didn’t want to be caught. He got an A that quarter, but he wasn’t too proud of it.
Katie had recovered from her concussion. She remembered that Sandy had tried to get them off the ship, and Chloe Grace had thought it all a wonderful game of pirates, thanks to Sandy’s quick thinking. Chloe Grace’s greatest worry was over the ballerina sock monkey that she’d left aboard the yacht. You can imagine her surprise when another just like it arrived in the mail from Washington, DC.
“What happened to Marcel Devereaux?” I hadn’t seen him around town since the night of the fateful banquet.
Max sat back and put his arm around me, and I snuggled up against him. “He called me a couple of times while I was in DC with some pointed questions about the figurehead. Strangely, though, he was calling from Paris. During our last conversation he asked if the museum in Boston would have the Lady on exhibit. The question made me nervous after all we’d been through with him, but I gave him the information.” He shrugged. “I figured he would find out anyway. Another strange thing: he asked if I was going to be at the exhibit.”
I looked up at him, suddenly not wanting him to leave my side. Ever. “And will you?”
“Only if the beautiful Elaine Littlefield will accompany me.”
I sighed and leaned against his side again. “I believe I can arrange that.”
“I don’t ever want to be away from you again,” he said, his voice husky.
Startled, I leaned forward so I could better see his face. “I was just thinking the same thing.”
“I’ve never done this before,” he said. “Shall I get down on one knee?”
“Oh, please, no,” I said with a soft laugh. “Creaky knees, you know.”
He took my hand, turning to me as he spoke. “I’ve fallen in love with you, El. I want to spend every day of the rest of my life with you, laughing with you, taking joy in life with you, watching sunsets, holding hands …” His eyes welled. “I can’t imagine my life without you.”
“But our differences … your vocation … your vows … your rule of life … your …”
His lips covered mine and I couldn’t finish speaking. I couldn’t even remember what I was going to say.
I pulled back slightly and looked into his eyes, losing myself in their depths.
He pulled me into his arms again. I rested my cheek against his chest. “I’ve loved you forever, I think, but I didn’t know it until I saw you the first time.”
I felt a soft laugh rumble from his chest. “And when was that?”
“When I saw you baking cookies in your sock monkey pajamas and line dancing to Mozart. Though you were wearing your earbuds, so I didn’t know it was Mozart until later.”
“If nothing else, I’m eclectic,” I said.
“That’s just one of the things I love about you.” His whisper tickled my ear, and I felt my toes curl. “I love you, El. Please say you’ll marry me.”
I leaned back, taking in every detail of his face, his jaw, his eyes, so filled with compassion and expectancy. I touched his cheek. How could I begin to express all that was in my heart? The joy of unexpected love at this time of my life … the amazing depths of this man’s heart and soul … and to think that he loved me? I didn’t think I could breathe for the amazement of such a thing.
I placed my hands on either side of his face, and then I kissed him. “I would love to,” I said. And when I could breathe again, I whispered, “I love you, Professor Haverhill.”
Epilogue
Mrs. Littlefield
Never be afraid to trust an unknown future to a known God.
Corrie ten Boom
Max’s speech at the exhibit opening at Boston’s Maritime Museum stirred my heart. The well-heeled patrons and guests around me seemed equally spellbound by his description of the hunt for the figurehead. We were right there in the water with him, through the storm, the rescue, and his first look at the Lady.
He showed a number of slides on a screen behind the dais, while he stood to one side where he could see the screen and the audience.
He caught my eye and gave me a wink and a half smile. I loved that, but then I loved everything about this man. I twirled the engagement ring on my left hand.
“The tension was immense,” Max said as he showed a photo of the approaching storm. “After all these years you can imagine my father’s devotion to the search as well as
my own, and what it felt like to surface with the pod … and finally have discovered the prize.”
He shook his head slowly. “We used a smaller backup crane to get the thing out of the water and on board the ship. The container was taken immediately to the hold, where I, of course, followed.
“The figurehead pod was covered with barnacles. They looked like clusters of rock, but they were colonies of live barnacles. The best way to get rid of them is to let them die and then power wash the surface. I also knew it takes ten days for a barnacle to die. But I was in a hurry, as you can imagine.” He laughed lightly, and the audience laughed with him. He clicked and another slide came up. It was a photo of the barnacle-covered pod, Max standing beside it, hair rumpled, goggles and gloves on, but looking deliriously happy.
“I inspected the container, looking for the metal shipping label I’d seen on an earlier dive. It took more barnacle scraping, followed by several inspections with a high-powered magnifying glass, but I finally found it.”
He clicked the remote and a new slide appeared, a close-up of a shipping label.
He paused to take a sip of water. “I don’t know if you can make out the address. The years housing colonies of barnacles took its toll on the pod. But if you can’t see it, I’ll read it to you: Centr Bost Muse 1425 Beac St Boston Mass USA and freight no 3725818122.
“Central Boston Museum, Beacon Street,” he translated. “This was the proof I needed, even before we opened the container. This was our Lady. At this point, we knew we had found her, but we didn’t know if she’d been damaged.”
Max showed a few more slides of the container being opened, but one stood out: The photographer, who Max had said was one of the ship’s crew, caught the expression on Max’s face the moment he saw the figurehead. He fell to his knees almost reverently, with a look of pure joy on his face.
As the last slide faded—that of the figurehead herself—and the curtain lifted to reveal the real Lady, the crowd stood and applauded.
“Please, please, sit down, if you would. I have something important to add to the story. It was the bravery of a few good people in Paris—young men and women, older folks, fathers and mothers—who, in the midst of the horror and thievery of the massive Nazi machine, saved the treasure of the Lady. Though I’m proud of the honor you’ve given me tonight, the courageous people of the French Resistance are the true testament to heroism.
“These heroes and heroines kept track of millions of dollars worth of art and antiquities. No matter the cost, even if it meant capture or death, they were ready to act. When orders came from the highest levels of the Nazi government to transport the treasures of France and the French people by train and by trucks across the border into the Reich, these few tracked every stolen item they could get hold of, kept what records they could, and secreted untold items away.
“The treasures may never be found, but the story of these brave individuals will never fade.” He moved his gaze to the pedestal where the Lady now stood. “And this figurehead, ladies and gentlemen, is not just a reminder of the hidden treasure that might someday be found. She is a reminder of those who worked tirelessly in the face of almost impossible odds.”
I jumped from my seat, applauding, as the crowd at Boston’s Maritime Museum gave Max another standing ovation.
Max flashed me a wide smile as the curator of the museum spoke a few words in closing, then trotted down the stairs to where I waited.
“That was wonderful.” I squeezed his hand when he took mine. “Inspiring. Exciting. Dangerous. Now I want to go on your next grand expedition.”
He laughed. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Friends gathered around us. Max introduced me to Captain Donnegan of the Black Watch, two former students, MacFie and Dirk, and several other seamen who’d been on the salvage ship.
“These are the divers who brought the Lady to the surface,” Max said, nodding toward the two young men.
“So nice to meet you.” I stepped forward and shook their hands.
“She doesn’t know, does she?” The young man named MacFie searched my face.
“Know what?” I glanced from one to the other of the young men.
“If she knew,” Dirk said to Max, “she’d be hugging our necks right now, congratulating us for being alive.”
The captain came up and slung his arm around Max’s shoulders. “This one never toots his own horn.” He looked at the young men. “You two ought to know that by now.”
MacFie grinned at Dirk and looked back to Max. “If you aren’t going to tell your bride-to-be, then I—”
Dirk stepped up and interrupted. “No, I will. I got a better look at what this Houdini did.”
“For the sake of time,” the captain said, “I’ll be the one to tell Mrs. Littlefield.” He smiled at me as he continued. “Max saved their lives. We were caught in a storm and lost the crane that was bringing up the divers. It was headed to the ocean’s floor, taking the cage with it. Your man’s fast thinking saved them. The crane landed on a cliff not too far under the surface, but it wouldn’t have stayed put long. Not in that chop.”
“Anybody would have done the same thing,” Max said, looking uncomfortable.
“You were already in the water. It was as if you knew …” The captain glanced at me. “He got to them in the nick of time, broke them out of the cage, and somehow, the three of them were able to get the pod carrying the figurehead to the surface.” He shook his head slowly. “If I hadn’t been there to see it, I never would have believed it.”
Max took a sudden interest in his shoes, absently resting his hand on his chest where I knew he wore his cross.
“Hey, man,” MacFie said, “we owe you big time, th—”
“Excuse me,” a man’s voice interrupted. I recognized the French accent and turned to see Marcel Devereaux pushing a woman in a wheelchair toward us.
“I have someone who wants to meet you,” Marcel said, his eyes on Max. The captain and the two young men moved to the side of the room, where dessert and coffee were being served.
“Yes, of course.” Max took my elbow and drew me to his side.
Marcel laid his hand on the elderly woman’s thin shoulder. “This is my mother, Madeleine Devereaux,” he said. “Come with us, please.”
Marcel pushed the wheelchair across the room. Max and I exchanged puzzled looks and then followed them to the figurehead display. I was a bit put off by their lack of manners, and if it hadn’t been such a grand and wonderful night, I would have said so. I mean, really, we should have been properly introduced.
For a long time, Mrs. Devereaux stared up at the figurehead. “She’s as beautiful as I thought she would be,” she said. “All those decades ago, and now at last, I see her in person.” She smiled, and I could almost see the lines disappear from her face.
She gestured toward a bench on one side of the display. “Please sit, and I shall tell you how to find the Lady’s treasure.” Her smile reached her eyes, lighting her entire face. From her expression it was obvious she’d been waiting years for this moment.
“It was right in front of you all along,” she said. “The freight number isn’t about freight at all. Break it up and see where you land if you follow the coordinates.” She waved her hand. “You may have to play with the numbers, but you’ll eventually get there. You know, latitude, longitude, that sort of thing. Not all of the numbers are on the photograph you took. I could see some were missing, but I’m sure you’ll soon figure out the rest.”
Max had turned pale. For a moment he didn’t speak. Finally, he stood and started pacing. He put a hand to his forehead and rubbed his temples. Finally, he turned to Mrs. Devereaux. “If you knew this, why didn’t you come forward sooner?”
She straightened, pulled her shawl around her thin shoulders, and lifted her chin. “I was never told the numbers; I was only told where they would be f
ound. I had to wait to see for myself, if you had indeed uncovered them.” She laughed lightly. “Is it not clever that those who hid the so-called code did not put it on the Lady at all?”
She laughed, looking up at her son. “I’m ready to go now, Marcel. It’s been a long journey.”
He had wheeled her a short distance when she stopped him and looked back at Max. “Did you wonder why my son was following you earlier this year?”
“Yes, I did,” Max said.
She laughed. “I sent him to America to find out if you were worthy of receiving the Lady’s final burden. And believe me, the knowledge you now hold may be the greatest burden you will ever bear. He said you were worthy. And another thing, my granddaughter Natasha will be enrolling at your college next fall. I sent my daughter with Marcel to find out if your campus was suitable for young girls.”
Lifting her chin high, she motioned her son to move on.
“Godspeed, Dr. Haverhill. Godspeed,” she called over her shoulder.
I stood in an almost reverent silence next to Max as Marcel and his mother disappeared into the lobby. Judging from Max’s trembling hand as he took mine, he felt the same way. I tried to take it all in, the millions of dollars in antiquities, irreplaceable art, personal treasures … all stolen in such a vicious and horrible manner. Now it all had to be sorted and returned to the families of the victims. It was too much to get my mind around.
Max looked shaken. The same thoughts … and more … were surely whirling through his mind. He slid one arm around me, and with his opposite hand he reached for his cross, pulling it right out from underneath his shirt. He held it like a rosary.
“This has been quite a ride,” I said.
“And it’s only begun.”
“I suppose this means we need to watch out for bad guys.”
“I hope no one else knows we’re the only ones who have the code.”