“Besides,” I said, my voice lowering, “do you remember what you told me today, this morning? About who we are?” I took a deep breath. “It’s true. You’re not your uncle and I’m not my mother . . . We’re ourselves. We have to make our own lives.” My eyes focused on the setting sun, which was balancing just above the horizon like a shimmering golden ball. “That’s why I’m staying in Lorens. Remember I once told you, ‘home is a place where you live—a place you love’?”
“Yes?”
“Well, I’ve found that place.”
Justin drew me near, looked deep into my eyes, and whispered, “Well said.” Then he kissed me, very gently.
And I thought, This is the kiss I’ve been waiting eighteen years for. It was worth the wait.
Epilogue
Once in a while, I wonder about Philip. I like to think he finally saw the truth that day he fell, and couldn’t take it, and that’s why he ran. Perhaps he went off to seek his fortune in another country. I hope so, because I like to think he’s far away. But there’s always the possibility that someday down the road he, or some descendant, may return . . . and I’m not taking any chances.
So I have filled this diary with my story, because this is how it happened and how it must be remembered. I know I couldn’t have put this book to a better use. Now this is recorded, I can leave the bad memories behind without fear that the past will come back to hurt other unsuspecting people. Someday, if I’m blessed with children of my own, the account will be here so they will know the truth. And can be ready. Just in case a mysterious stranger does show up someday, searching for something.
I’m finally grateful my mother sent me here to Lorens, though I still sometimes wonder why she did. She couldn’t have known what would happen. She would never have knowingly put me in danger. I guess she sent me here because she really had no other choice. But I like to think it’s also because she wanted to finally make her peace, through me, with her brother, her hometown . . . and her past. She’d left so much undone, and she didn’t want to leave it like that forever.
There are some questions I may never have the answers to. But that’s okay. I know now what’s important. My mother is still in my memory—she always will be—but I remember her now in pleasant things. Like in my room, which no longer feels haunted; when I look at the thriving garden; and every time I bake or eat a rhubarb pie.
As for the map, I think my uncle used too much water when he shampooed the carpet. Whatever the reason—be it a combination of the water, the heat from the register, or simply time taking its toll on the delicate paper—while on the phone talking to Philip that night, I discovered the map was faded and completely unreadable.
But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that Justin destroyed the map when he believed it led to a fortune. He did it for my sake. And that’s worth more to me than all the gold in the world.
Though I’ve put the past behind me, one thing remains undone. On the crest of a hill in the little town of Lorens stands a picture-postcard church that never held the wedding of Tiffany Hutch. But tomorrow when her daughter walks down the aisle, I know my mother and father will be watching with happy hearts . . . and praying for my future.
About the Author
Therese Heckenkamp, eighteen when she completed the first draft of Past Suspicion, has been writing stories since before she could spell. A homeschooled student, she won numerous writing awards while growing up.
Therese lives in Wisconsin with her husband and two children. When she can find the time, she likes reading and reviewing Catholic novels. She is also currently working on her second book, Frozen Footprints, a Catholic suspense novel that is scheduled to be published by Tumblar House, hopefully by December 2012.
Therese always welcomes reader feedback. Email her at: [email protected]
Visit her website at ThereseHeckenkamp.com
Also, please feel free to visit:
PastSuspicion.com
TraditionalCatholicNovels.com
Catholic-Fiction.com
IvoryTowerPress.com
Past Suspicion (Christian Romantic Suspense) Page 30