Storm of Secrets

by Loretta Marion

42

  Cassandra

  The book Edgar was writing would no longer be a work of fiction. Now that one of Whale Rock’s enduring mysteries had been solved, it would instead be a true account of The Lost Boy of Whale Rock. He’d selected the title after I told him that’s what Granny Fi and I used to call Barnacle Boy.

  “There was a lot of piecing together of facts from letters and old articles. Thank goodness Isabella has been able to bridge most of the gaps.” Christopher turned to where his aunt was seated beside him. “It nearly remained a mystery.”

  “God would have eventually brought me to you,” the nun said, fingering the simple gold cross necklace she wore. His slight frown may have been a sign that he didn’t share her confidence. Or perhaps it was her faith he doubted.

  Over crab cakes and rocket salad, courtesy of Jimmy, Isabella told us Antonio’s story, beginning with the orphaned siblings’ immigration from Italy and their time in Boston. Edgar interrupted occasionally for a question or clarification, but when it came time for the dramatic ending of the story, we all remained silently rapt.

  “When did Ma finally open the envelope Uncle Vito gave her in Italy?” Christopher eased his chair back.

  “Not until after her cancer diagnosis. She understood it then,” Sister Bernadetta told us. “It wasn’t until her condition deteriorated that she became more confused. Especially about that article with the Welles family.”

  “I can’t even imagine how your mother must have felt, learning all those years later that Antonio’s body had washed ashore?” Laura had wrapped her arms around her belly, as she did more and more these days. Did all pregnant women do the same thing? A subliminal means of protecting the little beings growing within?

  “I know you were against exhuming the body.” Edgar hesitated a second, and before he could finish, Christopher held up both hands to stop him.

  “I’m not changing my mind.” His tone was defiant, but then he caught himself and softened as he went on to explain, “I feel I must honor my uncle’s wishes.”

  Isabella pulled out another letter from her pocketbook and reverently placed it on the table. “My brother’s friend Thomas sent Vito a clipping of an article about a young boy’s body being washed ashore in your town. This is my brother’s response.”

  Christopher unfolded it and read, “Renata is gone from us as much as Antonio is. Let the boy rest in peace anonymously,” He handed the letter back to his aunt and said, “Now that he is no longer anonymous, I’d like to leave him where he’s been well taken care of over the decades.”

  “You misunderstand. I’m not trying to persuade you otherwise. I merely wish to explain that I’ve realized we needn’t exhume the body to prove it’s Antonio.” Edgar pulled out a sheet of paper and slid it over for Christopher to see.

  “What is this?” he asked before perusing the document.

  “I was finally able to track down the medical examiner’s report.” Edgar pointed to a section. “When the boy was discovered, there was a medallion on a chain found still clinging to the body. I’ve spoken with some experts in the field and they’ve seen this before. What probably occurred was the chain became imbedded into bone, securing it.”

  “Was it a Saint Christopher’s medal?” Sister Bernadetta asked.

  Edgar nodded.

  “I placed a medal around my nephew Antonio’s neck the morning before they sailed.” This time in the telling the sister was less emotional. “It had a distinguishing mark?”

  “Yes.” Edgar adjusted his glasses and scooted his chair closer to show them. “See here? They took a photo.”

  He showed it to Isabella, and she nodded. “The mark of the medal worker in our town.”

  Christopher squinted at the photo while caressing his own medal, the one given to him by his mother before she died. He showed Edgar the back of his medal. “It’s the same mark.”

  Laura shuffled through some papers and then said, “We did some research on your mother’s maiden name.”

  “D’Esposti?” Sister Bernadetta said.

  “We learned that D’Esposti is a variation of the name Esposito, which in Italy, many years ago, was the surname given to abandoned children or those relinquished to orphanages. Probably why it’s a popular Italian surname.”

  Christopher washed his hands over his face, evidently hit hard by the uncanny coincidence. He then checked the reaction of his aunt.

  “My siblings and I were orphaned, but we were not abandoned. The people in our town kept us together.” She paused, bringing her fingertips to the corner of her eyes. “Antonio is another matter.”

  “I once knew a boy named Jerry Esposito,” Jimmy started, probably thinking it a good time for lightening the mood, but Edgar sent him a warning look, forcing him to mumble, “Never mind. It was a long time ago.”

  “It’s a little-known bit of history.” Edgar removed his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose before assuring them, “We don’t have to include it in the book.”

  We all sat quietly for a moment while Jimmy cleared the dishes. He gave Christopher’s shoulder a squeeze and said, “I just have to say, Jerry Esposito was a real peach.”

  What could we do but laugh? Edgar smiled fondly at his husband and asked, “Speaking of peaches, where’s that cobbler you’ve been bragging about all morning?”

  “Coming right up.” Jimmy dashed over to the sideboard to dish up dessert, Gypsy at his heels.

  As we all dug in, there was a chorus of “This is great!” “Yum!” “The best!” “Delish!”

  Jimmy waved away the compliments, but the twinkle in his smiling eyes told how warmed he was by them.

  “You’re a lucky man,” Christopher told Edgar. “Gypsy’s quite taken with Jimmy, and she’s an excellent barometer of character.”

  “He bribes her with treats,” Edgar whispered.

  “I know,” Christopher whispered back, his eyes crinkling in amusement. It was amazing how the once aloof stranger had evolved into having a natural ease with us. He became serious again when he asked, “Did I mention my plans to replace the gravestone? Well, not exactly replace it, but add a new one.” He turned to me and said, “As long as you’re okay with it.”

  “You’ll leave the unknown boy marker?” Edgar asked before I had a chance to give it thought.

  “I don’t see why it should be removed. There’s a special history to it that reminds us of how the people of Whale Rock looked after him.” Christopher went on to tell us his plans. “I’d like to have a stone made with Antonio’s real name and dates of birth and death.”

  “I understand you not wanting to disturb his grave,” Edgar said. “But after all these years of his being alone, I’m surprised you don’t want to move him closer to your family.”

  “As it turns out, I may be the one moving closer to him. I’m considering buying my own little piece of Whale Rock heaven,” Christopher told us. “Assuming I can find something.”

  “I’ve been real estate shopping recently, and I can tell you that beach cottages in Whale Rock are a rare find,” Laura said between bites of cobbler. “They usually get handed down from generation to generation.”

  “You’d leave your school?” I asked, worried that the hearing hadn’t gone as well as he hoped.

  “Not permanently. I love my teaching position at Bridgewater Academy, but I’m thinking of buying a small cottage here.” Christopher offered a sad smile. “A refuge for my father and Aunt Isabella to heal. A place to invite my Italian cousins someday.”

  “In that case,” I told him, “I hear Robyn Landers has decided to sell Land’s End—assuming you don’t feel too superstitious about going back there after what happened.”

  Edgar winked at me. “The Mitchell family knows all about those types of rumors.”

  “Hey, that’s how my father was able to buy back The Bluffs.” I held up my hands at Christopher’s questioning look. “I’ll tell you the story another time. Today is for remembering Antonio.”

  “And ma
king plans for your future,” Edgar added.

  Christopher fingered the medal on the chain he’d replaced around his neck. “My mother may have been superstitious, but I’m not.”

  Jimmy raised his glass. “Then let me be the first to welcome you to Whale Rock.”

  43

  Cassandra

  The next morning, I ventured into town, the streets back to being filled with their usual summer crowds. Fortunately, the parking space behind Coastal Vintage Wares was free, though a shiver passed through me as I gazed over to where the dumpster once stood. My mission today wasn’t to see Archie, but I decided to stop by to tell him what we’d learned about the St. Christopher’s medal.

  “You could knock me over with a feather,” he said after I told him.

  “It is an incredible story,” I agreed.

  “Thank you for telling me. Who knows which version I would’ve gotten first? Evelyn Hilliard’s or Stella Kruk’s?”

  I smiled inwardly, knowing that the name Archie Stanfield was also fairly high on the list of town gossips.

  “I will admit, I’m glad that Barnacle Boy is no longer unknown. All lost children deserve to be discovered.”

  “Such a sweet sentiment, Archie,” I said. “You’re the one who told us about the medal in the first place. You deserved to know.”

  The bell tinkled and a group of older ladies swarmed into the storm.

  “Back to normal.” I gave him the thumbs-up and then skirted around the group to exit the store. My next stop was Uncommon Grounds, to pick up donuts for the Whale Rock police force. Even though I knew they sometimes found me to be an annoyance, what better way to make amends?

  After delivering the goodies to the break room and placing a little note by the box, I took a donut and a large coffee in to Brooks.

  “Light and sweet, just like you like it.” As I said the words, it jolted a memory. Teddy ordered his coffee the same. Chalk another one up for similarities between father and son!

  “You have a minute for an old friend?” I asked.

  “Sure thing, Cassie. Especially one who was key in helping to solve some recent cases.” He closed up the file he’d been working on and leaned back in his chair.

  “That pun is really getting old.”

  “So what’s up?”

  “You know Zoe’s getting divorced, right?”

  He nodded, looking suddenly wary.

  “She’s going to need someone to lean on.”

  Brooks rubbed his chin, and I could tell he wasn’t comfortable with where this was heading.

  “I know you have a history, but I sense there’s still something there between the two of you.”

  He cleared his throat and leaned his arms on the desk. “My history with your sister is complicated.”

  “If you want a future with my sister, you’re going to have to deal with some trust issue baggage from her marriage to Oliver.”

  “Her trust issues go back further than that.”

  “I know,” I said. “I also know that Teddy Howell is your son,” I admitted. This was met with piercing silence as he narrowed his eyes at me. I could almost see the workings of his brain as he tried to gauge what I already knew about the private areas of his life.

  “Who told you?” he finally asked, sounding more wounded than angry.

  “Mostly I figured it out, and others innocently filled in the small gaps.”

  “I can pretty much guess who those innocents are.”

  “Don’t be too hard on your friends. They always have your back.”

  Brooks harrumphed. “No doubt, soon it’ll be out there for public consumption. It would have been nice for Ted and me to share it ourselves when we were ready.”

  I understood exactly how he felt. But living in Whale Rock made it very hard to have a private life, especially as a prominent resident.

  “Teddy’s a good kid,” I segued.

  “He’s getting there.” His words belied the pride that swept across his face.

  “From the moment I met him, he reminded me of someone.” I was still amazed at how long it took me to make the connection. “He’s a handsome guy, Chuckles.”

  “He is that.” He raised his eyebrows. “Don’t forget, his mother was Miss Massachusetts.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” He ignored the compliment, so I went on to say, “Teddy’s lucky to have you in his life.”

  “He doesn’t always see it that way,” he said, returning his attention to a stack of files.

  “Do any of us see things the way they truly are?” I then quoted something my Granny Fi always said: “Mirrors don’t lie, but they don’t show your insides either.”

  Brooks looked at me over his glasses. “When did you become such a philosopher?”

  “Don’t forget, I have Fiona Patrick’s genes.”

  “She was a character, that one.” He gazed thoughtfully toward the ceiling before finally adding, “My favorite was “Don’t throw the baby out with the dish water.”

  “You mean bath water.”

  “Oh yeah.” He let loose his famous chuckle, which was a joy to my ears.

  “It was nice of you to give Teddy one of my paintings.”

  “More psychic abilities?”

  “I saw it at his house. I remember at my last exhibit you purchased two of my paintings. I always wondered where the second one ended up.”

  “He loves it,” he said while removing the lid to his coffee and blowing at the rising steam. It deeply pleased me to know both father and son had given my work a prominent place in their homes. It would please me even more if Brooks could build a world with Teddy in which Zoe might also fit comfortably. But knowing my sister, that would be a challenging proposition.

  44

  Cassandra

  The Bluffs ~ One month after the storm

  I’d returned to The Bluffs following an appointment with the genetic specialist and was greeted by the sweet burning scent of Percy and Celeste.

  “Yes, I know you’re pleased.” For the past few weeks their signals had been all over the place, but there’d been much going on in my little world. Even once the messes—literal and figurative—left in the storm’s wake had been tidied up as well as could be expected, the spirits still hovered closely. Today, I’d at last discovered why.

  The ship’s bell ring announced the call I was expecting. Zoe would be eager to know all the details from the appointment.

  “What were the test results?” she asked immediately.

  “I did test positive for a genetic abnormality,” I told her while putting on the teakettle. “Your thinking was on the right track, Zo-Zo. I’m so glad you discovered the research and pushed me to be tested.”

  “Was there any explanation as to why Mama was able to carry you and me to term but none of the baby boys?”

  “When reviewing the history, Dr. Zane said that you and I are lucky to be here. But there’s no research to indicate the abnormality affects only one sex. Just a fluke of nature, I guess.”

  “I don’t know,” Zoe hedged. “We don’t know whether Mama’s genetic disorder was part of the curse.”

  I found it odd that my sister didn’t want to believe in the existence of the spirits of our great-grandparents, yet she was willing to hold on to the possibility that an oath uttered a century ago still had power against our family.

  “Well, we do know that Mama’s many miscarriages were rooted in science,” I countered. “And we shouldn’t assume it was Mama who carried this defective gene. There’s research that indicates the father can also be a carrier.”

  “Well then, if these miscarriages were caused by Papa, that strengthens the argument for the curse.”

  I kicked myself for not keeping that bit of scientific data to myself. “The fact is, we don’t know whether this originated with Mama or Papa’s family.” Though I imagined one day scientists would uncover this mystery as well. “But either way, it no longer matters, Zoe. Medical advances have offered a way to beat it.”
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  “There’s a treatment?” she asked eagerly.

  “Yes, and I’ve started the protocol.”

  We were both quiet for a minute. I was thinking about what Dr. Zane had told me about the somewhat experimental nature of the protocol I was on, a detail I would not share with my worrywart sister.

  “Will there be side effects?”

  “Fortunately, no.” I left out the part about needing to be closely monitored. Especially now.

  “How long will you need to be on this treatment?”

  “I’m not sure,” I fibbed. By my calculations, another six months.

  After ending the call with my sister, I took my cup of tea into the study, where I basked in the delightful, sweet burning sugar aroma that surrounded me. Percy and Celeste were indeed happy.

  “We aren’t out of the woods yet,” I told them. I’d need to tell Daniel first, a prospect that had me as excited as I was petrified.

  “Out of what woods?” Daniel asked, startling me so that I nearly dropped my teacup.

  “When did you get home?” I hadn’t heard a thing.

  “Just now.” He came and sat next to me on the leather loveseat. “You seemed far away. Sorry to interrupt your daydreams.”

  “I’m always glad to see you.” I reached up and placed a palm on his cheek. “Taking the afternoon off?”

  “I’m worried about you.” He kissed my palm and then kept hold of my hand. “I snooped in your calendar and saw that you had a doctor’s appointment today.”

  My face flushed hot.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “I hope so.” It’s a fact that’s not going to change. Just rip off that bandage, Granny Fi whispered in my ear, as the bolstering sweet burning scent intensified, giving me the strength to tell him, “We’re pregnant.”

  * * *

  After telling Daniel about the genetic disorder and how miraculous it was that our baby had survived the first precarious months before I even began the treatment, he quickly came around to the idea of a life with children.

  “It appears this little person we created has a destiny to fulfill,” he said after we left the next doctor’s visit together, following an important ultrasound. All signs were indicating a normal pregnancy.