Undercurrent of Secrets

by Rachel Scott McDaniel

  “She married someone else.”

  My hands dropped into my lap. “What?”

  He resumed rowing, his gaze fastened on the line of ripples extending from the oar. “I was engaged to Gertrude Albright.”

  “Duffy’s great-niece?” Oh dear mercy, why hadn’t I heard this before? Two summers ago, Gertrude had married a congressman’s son. I’d only met him once on a visit with Duffy. The fella’s handsome features and padded bank account made him a dandy of a catch, but not as good a man as Jack Marshall.

  “We grew up around each other. In the same circles.” His fleeting frown appeared for only a second before tugging into a ghost of a smile. “But then my family lost everything in a bad business decision during the Great War.”

  My hand pressed to my heart. What a terrible time to lose all. “I had no idea. I’m sorry.”

  Jack released a humorless laugh. “I had no clue either, until I arrived back from my enlistment. The house was sold. Dad was working at a warehouse and Mother at a textile factory.”

  My brows lowered. “They never wrote, letting you know?”

  “No. I was on the coast at the time. They didn’t want to alarm me.” He pressed his lips together then relaxed them to expel a shaft of air. “They knew I’d abandon my post to come help. They didn’t want me torn between serving my country and loyalty to my family.”

  I pressed a hand against the ache in my heart. What a sad homecoming for Jack. For him to finally return to his family only to be met with devastation and ruin. “How that must’ve shocked you to find everything different.”

  “It wasn’t easy.” Something shifted in his eyes. “But the peculiar thing was, the loss brought my parents closer to each other and to God. They called it their wake-up moment. I’ve never seen them happier than when they’d lost everything and found each other and a faith in something greater than themselves.”

  “In a way that’s beautiful.” Their circumstance reminded me of a scripture Duffy had often quoted—what good was it to gain the whole world and forfeit one’s soul?

  “Not everyone viewed it like you. When Gertrude realized my family’s drop in society, she dropped me as well.”

  Not surprising. Duffy’s family had all but banished him because of his reprehensible choice in profession. And I couldn’t say my heart held much love for Gertrude Albright. She’d tolerated our visits because she had to, but she hadn’t bothered to hide her disgust with me. She was beautiful, elegant, and wealthy.

  Everything I wasn’t.

  A piece of my heart withered. Now I knew the kind of woman that captured Jack’s attention. I couldn’t compete or attain that status. “I’m sorry she did that to you.”

  Jack shrugged. “We wouldn’t have worked out. I didn’t realize how shallow she was. Love is more than the rung you cling to on the social ladder. She didn’t want to take the risk with me. Her life was privileged and coveted.”

  Though Jack would have treated her like a queen. Foolish girl. “But isn’t that what love’s about? Taking risks? Committing to a person no matter what the future holds?” My head tilted as I thought. “Kind of like when we choose to serve God. We don’t know the entire course, what lies behind life’s many river bends, but He does. We can trust Him to hold our hands and lead us through difficult waters.” And I’d be good to remember that in a few weeks when we arrived in Pittsburgh. God had always taken care of me and He always would.

  Jack peered at me with the most intense expression.

  I tried not to squirm. How silly of me to rattle off such things when I had no experience. “Though what do I know of love?”

  His gaze traced my face. “A great deal more than most.”

  I warmed under his approval. I needed to change the subject before I melted into the splintered cracks of the dinghy. “Where exactly are we going? By the way you’re rowing we should hit Cincinnati by nightfall.” Though I wouldn’t complain about the interesting show of muscle rippling he was putting on.

  He chuckled. “See the mouth of that stream over yonder?”

  I peered in the direction of his jutted chin. The Kentucky River was up ahead, but that wasn’t what he referred to. There was a small opening past a cluster of oak trees. “Is that a distributary?”

  “Yes.” He nodded. “Therein lies your present, Admiral.”

  Chapter 22

  Devyn

  “Welcome to the middle of nowhere.” Devyn tossed a grin at Chase as he drove his Jeep up the familiar lane leading to her family’s vacation cabin. “Isn’t it glorious?” It had been several months since she’d visited the area, but there was something soothing about this wooded wonderland.

  Chase cut the engine and tugged his keys from the ignition. “It is.” He returned her smile. “And also far from civilization.” He grabbed his cell and checked the screen. “No bars.”

  Oh. She’d forgotten about that. What if a doctor or some other health professional needed to get ahold of him? “There’s zippo service out here. Is that going to be a problem? We can go back, and I can come here another time.”

  He set a calming hand on her jiggling knee, stilling it. “It’s perfect.” His smile grew the longer he looked into her eyes. “Now I don’t have to share you with your ex-fiancé.”

  Ugh. Travis had somehow managed to get her number and had been texting over the past two weeks. “He’ll get a clue when he realizes I finally blocked his number.”

  Chase gave her knee a gentle squeeze then removed his hand. “I think he realizes what he lost.”

  She let out a disbelieving laugh. “No way. With him it’s all about appearances.”

  “You have a beautiful appearance.” His thumb ran along his keys disinterestedly, but there was nothing casual about his tone. Chase was fluent in the language of flirting, but there were times, like this, when the pitch of his voice deepened in such a way, causing Devyn to think there was more to his playful remarks.

  And of course, her heart responded with a predictable thud. She tugged her Ray Bans from their position atop her head and slid them over her eyes. “Come on, I have so much to show you.”

  They exited the Jeep, and she led Chase up the porch steps to the Asbury Getaway Lodge, as her brother called it. Humidity stuck the door to the jamb. With a little shove, the wooden entry gave way, and Devyn was greeted with a wave of must and memories.

  She invited Chase inside and left the door ajar, allowing in fresh air and sunshine. Her smile buoyed at the familiar space. Roughhewn beams ran along the high ceiling and the stone hearth featured on the opposite wall was bookended by large picture windows. Devyn could almost see Nana in the rocking chair working on a crossword puzzle and humming a Gaither Vocal Band song.

  Chase glanced around the room, and Devyn’s heart pinched. She hoped his reaction to her beloved log cabin wouldn’t match that of the last guest she’d brought here.

  He shoved his hands into his pockets. “So what’s our mystery mission?”

  “Ah, it worked. I’ve intrigued you.” The entire car ride, Devyn had kept silent as to their purpose for coming here. Although, Chase didn’t need much convincing to join her, his words still whirring through her—As long as I’m with you, it doesn’t matter where we go.

  She met his gaze and hoped her eyes didn’t reflect the sappy condition of her heart at present. “We need to head into the basement. Apparently, there’s a Victrola down there Mom wants me to bring back for her. Then you and I are on official ball business.” She tamed her smile. “First I need to turn on the electric.” She went to the utility room, opened the panel box, and flipped the circuit breakers.

  The house hummed alive.

  Devyn emerged to find Chase browsing the picture wall.

  “Is that you?” He leaned in, and she knew exactly which picture he was examining.

  “Yes. Some girls want to grow up and be movie stars and models, I wanted to be Annie Oakley.” She laughed at the image of her nine-year-old self clutching a shotgun with an exubera
nt grin.

  “You look adorably dangerous with that rifle.” He chuckled.

  “My grandpa taught me how to shoot.” She straightened the picture and smiled. “It was a valuable skill, especially later on when learning how to pitch. I already knew how to adjust my vision to perfect my aim.” She spent the next couple of minutes showing Chase pictures of her and Mitch, her parents, and grandparents. “My brother and his wife are expecting a baby next February. So this space will get some fresher photos.” Would Devyn get the chance to add to this generational wall? She ignored the stab of uncertainty and watched Chase’s meandering gaze.

  He caught her staring, and his grin turned wolfish. She braced herself for a Chase-sized teasing, but instead, he returned his focus to the wall. “Are there any of your great-grands?”

  “Only one.” She pointed at the photo on the top left. “They’re older here. Sorry it’s grainy, I think it’s from my parents’ wedding.” She joined him in viewing the blurry image of two grinning old people. “I wish I could’ve met them.” Though in an odd way, Devyn felt connected to them through this place. Her great-grandfather had built the cabin for his young bride. Their only son, her grandpa, had preserved the home and passed it on to Devyn’s father. Love and laughter had been breathed into each nook and crevice, and Devyn inhaled wistfully before leading Chase through the kitchen.

  They descended the paint-chipped steps into the dusty basement. “Mom said to look in the far right corner.” Devyn wrinkled her nose at the cluttered space. “If we can get there.” The cellar was crammed with piles of boxes, walls of plastic tubs, and pine shelving stuffed with rows of glass jars, mostly empty.

  Devyn maneuvered past an old dining table with chairs stacked on top. Her careful steps halted at the sight of something fuzzy. She squealed and skittered back, colliding into Chase’s chest.

  His hands encircled her waist, stabling her. “What is it?”

  She turned into him, clinging to his neck, burying her face into his shirt. Her voice pitched high. “A mouse.” Rodents and any creature with eight legs turned her into the biggest wimp. A low sound rumbled against her forehead. “Are you laughing?”

  With his hands still on her waist, he eased back to look fuller into her face. “I thought you stumbled on a dead body or something. But it turns out Annie Oakley is only afraid of a dusty rag.”

  Devyn released her death grip on his neck and glanced behind her. Sure enough, it was a shriveled, black cloth.

  She gave him a mock glare and poked his chest. “Tell no one.”

  He released her with a grin. “Your secret’s safe with me.” But then the smile faded from his eyes, and another emotion claimed residence.

  Rather than question him on it, she grabbed his wrist and led him through a narrow path between the rows of boxes. Devyn’s nose itched from all the dust. The light was dimmer in this area of the room, but she spotted something bulky covered with a garbage bag and duct tape. “That has to be it.” She pointed.

  He followed her as she picked her way to the Victrola. Using her index fingernail, she dug a hole in the bag and tugged, exposing a curved, gold-toned speaker. They worked together uncovering the rest.

  Chase stood beside her, admiring the antique.

  “It’s from the thirties, I think.” She brushed the hair away from her forehead with the back of her hand. “Mom wants it for a decorative piece.” Her finger carved a dust trail along the main box. The needle seemed in good condition. Her attention snagged on the tray, and she gripped Chase’s arm, too stunned to speak.

  “Another mouse?” he teased.

  “It’s a Perry Como record.” With gentle handling, she lifted the shellac disc from the tray and used the edge of her tank top to brush away the filth.

  Chase arched a brow at her crud-stained shirt.

  “Anything for Perry.” She gave an exaggerated wink. “He’s like the twentieth-century version of Michael Bublé.”

  “Ah. A crooner, is he? Should we see if it works?” Chase gestured toward the crank. “Try to hear Perry’s golden pipes?”

  She bit her lip, subduing a smile. “Sure.”

  But he didn’t move, his gaze steady on her. “You have…a little something.” He eased near, and with the pad of his thumb, brushed her temple. “There.”

  She thought he’d step away, but he didn’t. Neither did she.

  Chase’s gentle caress. The smolder in his eyes. The visible rise and fall of his chest, all made her head swim and her chin lift ever so slightly, inviting him to erase the distance between them. To kiss her.

  Her want must have been reflected on her face, for Chase slid his hands into her hair, his fingers taking their time traveling down her back, sending a shiver through her which he no doubt felt. His gaze flicked to her mouth, then to her eyes. “I meant what I said in the car.” His voice was like that first sip of coffee on a sleepy Monday morning, bringing every part of her to life. “You’re beautiful, Devyn.” He nuzzled her temple. “In so many ways.”

  His head dipped, but then he paused, his jaw locking. Some sort of struggle carved deep grooves between his brows. What was wrong with him? Or maybe it was her. Maybe he didn’t want to cross that line. Then why had he been looking at her with such hunger?

  His Adam’s apple bobbed and his gaze, now distant, dragged over her shoulder. “Should we see if it works?”

  Huh? Oh, the Victrola. She bit back her disappointment and pasted on a wobbly smile. “Of course.” She stepped aside, letting him have full access to the ancient gramophone. Maybe he didn’t want their first kiss to be in a crusty, mothball-reeking basement. Whatever it was, he was now back to his casual self with a sure hand poised on the tarnished lever.

  He nodded. With a “Here goes,” he rotated the crank.

  The tray didn’t turn.

  “Maybe I can get it fixed.” She reached into her back pocket to grab her phone to check the time, and her elbow brushed a pile of records on the shelf behind her. The top cover caused her to suck in a sharp breath. “Dean Martin.” Her fingers tugged the entire stack off the pine plank, and she thumbed through them. “The Andrew Sisters, Ella Fitzgerald.” There were some older looking ones with names she didn’t recognize. “Who needs Space Station, I can get filthy rich selling these on the internet.”

  Though who was she kidding? Like she’d ever part with such treasures. Some families would pass down jewelry to future generations; it appeared her great-grandparents’ heirlooms consisted of vintage records. Devyn had never been one for bling, but Bing? Oh, she’d go for that swoony voice over a pretty trinket any day of the week.

  What other sorts of awesomeness had been left as spider bedding down here? Her gaze drifted over the tall shelves. Coffee cans filled with screws and washers. There were stacks of McCalls sewing pattern catalogs from the early nineties. She paused in front of an Avon cardboard box filled with miscellaneous things. As if someone had emptied out a junk drawer and shoved the box down here, leaving it to collect dust.

  Her focus glued on a yellowed envelope wedged between a tomatoshaped pin cushion and a plastic cup filled with pencils. She reached for what she hoped to be a little token from Nana.

  Chase stepped behind her. “Find something?”

  “Every time Mitch and I spent a weekend here, Nana would kick off the visit with a scavenger hunt.” Devyn tugged the envelope from its longtime home and raised it for Chase to see. “She always tucked clues in envelopes like this and we’d go nuts running around the cabin in search of ’em.”

  “Your Nana sounds fun.”

  “She was the best.” Beautiful flashbacks rolled through her mind, memory after memory, like one of those old-school slide projectors, making her fingers tingle to open the brittle envelope resting in her hand. She angled toward the light and peeked inside. Her brow lowered. Not a clue written in Nana’s flowery script. “It’s a picture.”

  Gently, she eased it from the paper sheath, wincing when one of the edges tore. But…the picture had
already been ripped. Right down the middle. “Chase?” She studied the image and turned it over, reading the name.

  “Yeah?”

  “I think I found the other half to Hattie’s photo.”

  But it wasn’t Chase’s great-grandfather.

  It was hers.

  Chapter 23

  Hattie

  Stones grated the dinghy’s bottom. I gripped the sides so I wouldn’t spill into the shallow water as Jack rowed us ashore. The boat scraped to a halt on a craggy beach as narrow as it was long, the setting sun glinting off the sand.

  Jack climbed out, grabbed the bucket holding our dinner, and reached for me. I placed my fingers in his warm ones and carefully stepped onto the closest rock protruding from the rippling stream. My sturdy T-strap shoes and faultless balance would prevent me from slipping, but Jack, being the gentleman he was, placed a protective hand on my side.Together we trekked our way from stone to stone onto dry land.

  Instead of withdrawing his touch, he threaded his fingers through mine. If my ribs hadn’t been so determined on keeping my heart caged, the jittery thing would have soared higher than the surrounding treetops.

  My gaze roved the tangle of ferns, searching for a path. There wasn’t one. Yet Jack was surefooted, snaking us around giant maples and through tall grass as if he’d been here a million times. But how? This place held no trace of human interference. No houses. No roads. Nothing but rugged beauty that nourished my weakened spirit. After all the lows about Duffy, this place supplied solace. “Thank you for bringing me here.” My tone hushed in the splendor of it all. “I couldn’t ask for a better gift.”

  “You haven’t seen your gift yet.” His lips edged into a smile that flushed warmth to my toes. “But you can hear it.”

  I slowed my pace and listened. The birds and crickets engaged in a shouting match, and my ears couldn’t register anything beyond it. No, wait. I closed my eyes. “Water,” I murmured, the faint burble as recognizable as the voice of a lifelong friend. My lashes fluttered open, and I glanced over my shoulder. The stream we’d beached the dinghy near was no longer in sight.