• twenty-six •

Reader!—I forgave him at the moment, and on the spot. There was such deep remorse in his eye, such true pity in his tone, such manly energy in his manner; and, besides, there was such unchanged love in his whole look and mien—I forgave him all.

—Jane Eyre

Luke took Jeremiah away, not pausing for conversation; but the look he gave Emily as he left filled her with hope. She gave the Fillmore boys the rest of the day off with bonus pay and called Jamie to come and comfort Katie. Meanwhile Emily cradled her on the library love seat, stroking her hair. The poor girl had been through hell.

“You see, sweetheart, there was no curse after all. Only a crazy man who thought he needed to protect you.”

“I guess you’re right. I think I was a little crazy myself to believe that.”

“It’s been a crazy time. But you’re safe now.”

“I don’t know, Mrs. C. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel safe again.”

Jamie arrived, and Emily told him what had happened. He folded Katie in his arms, and she clung to him as to a lifeline as he murmured endearments into her hair. Gently he led her across the lawn to her own apartment, where little Lizzie had slept through the whole crisis. Thank God for that.

Emily watched the new couple from the porch with a divided heart. Katie was safe: that was the important thing. She had to focus on that. And not think about the fact that she might be about to lose her in a different way—to Jamie. After all she’d gone through, all she’d done to protect Katie and Lizzie—including possibly destroying Luke’s trust in herself forever—she was still going to lose the girls she loved.

But that was what mothers did. They protected their daughters all through childhood, only to send them away in the end to be protected by a husband. Or to face the world on their own.

Emily hadn’t had all the years of Katie’s childhood, or Lizzie’s, either. She’d only had a few months, into which she’d poured a lifetime of frustrated mother love. And now she would have to let go. Move straight into empty-nest and grandma mode without the usual transition time.

And without a husband to support her through it all.

*   *   *

Once Jeremiah was safely in jail, Luke searched his house for evidence to corroborate his confession. The man was clearly insane, and without hard evidence a good defense lawyer might be able to persuade a jury to discount his admission of guilt.

In the backyard incinerator Luke found the remains of a pair of stained work gloves. With any luck they’d yield traces of Jake’s blood. Inside the house, in a drawer of Edwards’s painfully neat desk, was a letter from Rachel’s college along with an autopsy report confirming suicide and stating that she was pregnant when she died. Motive and means—he had Cordelia’s testimony that Jake himself had the knife, which Edwards must have wrestled away from him. And Luke could supply evidence of opportunity from his own investigation—thanks to Emily. No doubt Edwards would be committed to a psychiatric facility instead of a regular prison, but one way or another he’d be put away for life; Luke was confident of that.

And as a bonus, in the same desk he also discovered a box of toddler-size crayons and a can of lavender spray paint. Emily had shown him her picture of Devon and Hilary’s window smeared with this same paint. Finding the can wasn’t proof positive Edwards had been responsible for those threats, but it was pretty damn suggestive. Apparently the man saw his mandate from God as extending to the harassment of homosexuals. If he hadn’t been stopped in time, who knew how that might have escalated? He might’ve seen the gay couple as worthy of being purged from the Earth along with Jake and Roman.

Thank God Luke and Emily had managed to stop that maniac before he killed again.

*   *   *

With the case now well and truly closed, Jake’s and Roman’s bodies were released for burial. Roman had no family to escort him out of this world; if his body were left to the state’s tender care, it would be cremated, and Emily’s Orthodox faith forbade cremation. Even for a man she’d disliked and feared, she couldn’t let that happen simply by default, so she took it upon herself to arrange and pay for his funeral. He would be buried at St. Bede’s.

It was Father Stephen’s idea to give Jake and Roman a joint funeral. Emily had no objection, but she was sure Carter Newhouse would never stand for it. To her amazement, however, Father Stephen approached him and he agreed. Emily checked to be sure the funeral was announced in the Wave so Mildred Newhouse would be able to see it and attend if she changed her mind.

A few dozen mourners—mostly, Emily guessed, business associates and social acquaintances of the Newhouses—dotted the pews behind the two coffins. Emily had made sure Roman’s casket gleamed as brightly and held as many flowers as Jake’s. Heathcliff or no, she had more sympathy for Roman; at least he had been driven by a specific passion for Katie, rather than a generalized lust mixed with contempt toward women in general.

Father Stephen neatly avoided eulogizing the two young men. Instead he spoke of mercy and forgiveness, the qualities that had been so notably lacking in the theology of their murderer. And he spoke of community, of its power to heal and become stronger through suffering. By the end of his homily, Emily had found a tiny corner of pity in her heart even for Jake. And for his father, whose ruined countenance met her gaze across the aisle in the first pew. She stole a glance toward the back of the church and caught sight of a figure in a veiled black hat in the darkest corner. So Mildred had made it after all. For Mildred she felt the most compassion of all.

Mildred kept herself inconspicuous at the graveside as well. Emily watched her assess her husband in wonder at how humble and passive he had become. She need hardly fear him now. Nevertheless, Emily was sure Mildred would not attend the reception Newhouse had organized in Jake’s honor.

When the cavalcade of mourners had departed, Mildred lingered by the grave, dropping wildflowers one by one from the posy she held. Emily approached her quietly.

“Mildred?”

Mildred started and looked up, wide-eyed, but relaxed when she recognized Emily. “Emily. Thank you for coming.”

“It was the least I could do.” The grieving mother dropped the last of her flowers into the grave, then looked around her as if she’d never seen the place before. Emily felt she ought not to be left alone. “Would you like to come to Windy Corner for tea?”

Mildred nodded absently. “Thank you, you’re very kind.”

Emily drove her down the hill, as she didn’t seem in a fit state to drive; she’d bring her back to her car later. Katie had stayed home from the funeral, not wishing to be an object of curiosity to anyone who might know or have guessed the motive for the murders, and she had tea all ready. Emily introduced Mildred to Katie—without, of course, mentioning anything about Katie’s connection with Jake.

Katie took one look at Mildred, whose pale drooping face above her stiff black suit seemed to forbid joy from ever visiting there again. Then she whispered something to Emily, left the room, and came back with Lizzie in her arms.

“Mrs. Newhouse? I’d like you to meet your granddaughter.”

The transfiguration of Mildred Newhouse’s face rivaled anything Minerva McGonagall could accomplish. She held out her arms to Lizzie, who gurgled and went to her gladly. The baby played with Mildred’s black beads while the newly elevated grandmother examined every inch of her as if she were a miracle dropped straight from heaven. Which, of course, she was.

When she had a moment of attention to spare from Lizzie, Mildred said to Katie, “I won’t ask how this child came to be. I have a feeling it would be better for me not to know. But I can’t begin to tell you what this means to me. Thank you so very, very much for allowing me to meet her just this once.”

“It doesn’t have to be just this once. You’re welcome to see Lizzie as often as you like.”

Mildred gave a sad smile. “I’m moving away from here. I’d thought of going to Portland, or farther, but—Emily, you saw Carter today. Do you think I’d be safe going only as far as Seaside?”

“I’d hate to pronounce on that, but he certainly seems like a changed man to me. I think he’s accepted that what happened to Jake was partly his own fault—and that includes his abuse of you.”

Mildred planted a kiss amid Lizzie’s red curls. “Maybe I will be seeing more of you after all, little Lizzie. I always wished I could have a daughter. Though I wouldn’t have wanted to raise one in that house.” She shuddered. “Having a granddaughter will be even better.”

So even Emily’s remaining role as adoptive grandmother would have to be shared. But that, too, was in the nature of things, and she could hardly begrudge Mildred this comfort after the miserable life she’d led. Emily would just have to learn to live with a reduced role in Lizzie’s and Katie’s lives.

*   *   *

One last entry here, just because I’ve written so much angst in this journal and now I want to write some joy to counteract it. After tonight, I’m going to be so busy and so happy I’ll never want to write in here again.

Jamie asked me to marry him. With all the trappings. He took me to dinner at Gifts from the Sea, with champagne in an ice bucket and everything. When I finished my champagne, there at the bottom of the glass was the most gorgeous ring I’d ever seen. He went down on one knee, right there in the restaurant, and said, “Katie Parker, queen of my heart, will you do me the immeasurable honor of becoming my wife?”

I was kind of startled, naturally, and he explained that he knew it was “precipitous” (he actually uses words like that, just as if we were in a Jane Austen novel), but he wanted to be sure I knew that I was safe and loved after all I’d been through. And I didn’t have to answer him right away if I didn’t want to, but his feelings would never change.

Well, of course I said yes. And not just because of the ring and all. (I mean, imagine—me, Katie Parker, from the wrong side of the tracks, engaged to a lawyer, with a diamond the size of the Twin Rocks on my hand? No way.) But I really do love him. I don’t even know him all that well yet, but I feel safe with him, like I thought I would never feel again. Safe and whole.

But then when he brought me home, I looked around at my sweet little apartment that I’ve only just gotten fixed up exactly the way I wanted it. And I thought about Mrs. C and all our plans for Windy Corner, and I thought, no way can I leave here now.

I didn’t say it, but Jamie saw something was wrong. He’s really intuitive like that, which I’ve never seen in a guy before. It’s pretty nice. He asked me if I was having second thoughts, so I told him.

And he said, “No problem. I can move in here.” Just like that. I handed him a problem, and he handed me a solution. Just like Mr. Knightley offering to move in with Emma and her dad. I asked wouldn’t he mind commuting to Tillamook, and he said no, he liked the drive. And his own place was just a bland apartment with hardly any furniture and no personality at all; he’d be happy to leave it.

Well, of course I kissed him then. I’d been a little nervous about that side of things because of—well, history. But honestly? I don’t think it’s going to be a problem. He’s happy to take it slow, and so am I. We agreed on a longish engagement because we need some time to get to know each other.

Lizzie woke up while we were talking—Mrs. C had been keeping an ear on the monitor for me—and Jamie went in and picked her up. I looked at their two red heads side by side. He might as well be her biological father. After a year or two, people will forget he isn’t. We’ll just be a family like any other.

Only happier.

I can’t wait to tell Mrs. C.

*   *   *

Katie’s news made Emily feel as if she’d been given the most gorgeous, decadent chocolate cake ever baked and told she could keep it and eat it, too. Katie happily married but still on the property—what more could she possibly ask?

She could ask for Luke. In the days since the arrest, the ache his absence left inside her had grown to a gnawing emptiness that wouldn’t let her sleep or settle to either work or play. All she’d been able to do was walk on the beach, and that brought back so many memories of their early times together, she only did it once. He hadn’t called or come by. She’d only glimpsed him at the funeral, on his way out while she was talking to Mildred.

Now she stood on the front porch of Windy Corner, debating whether the drizzle was light enough that she might venture into town on the Vespa. It was close to lunchtime; she could just casually stop by the Crab Pot and have a ninety-percent chance of finding Luke there. If he asked her to join him, all would be well. If not—then she might have to reevaluate her plans for the future. Living in Stony Beach while being permanently estranged from Luke was unthinkable.

The drizzle was thickening into real rain. She turned back to the door to get her umbrella and car keys and caught sight of the three cats, arrayed in the parlor bay window, watching her with unblinking eyes. “What? What have I done now?” she asked them. Was the innocent ploy of pretending to run into Luke by accident too deceptive for their sensitive collective conscience?

Then she heard the crunch of wheels on gravel. She turned and watched, her heart fluttering like a teenager’s, as Luke’s SUV rounded the bend of the drive and pulled up to the house.

She told herself he must have come on some official business, though she had no idea what that might be. It was a bit late to gather evidence, and anyway he had Jeremiah’s confession; he shouldn’t need more than that.

But Luke mounted the porch steps slowly, his cap in his hands despite the rain, and stood before her like a suppliant. “Hey, beautiful,” he said in a husky parody of his old teasing tone.

“Hey.” She scanned his gray eyes but found no steel there—only the infinite sadness of the stormy sea. “Does this mean you forgive me?”

He took her left hand and caressed her fingers with his roughened thumb. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking the last few days.” He cut his eyes up toward the attic. “Up there when Edwards grabbed Katie—I would’ve done anything to keep her safe. Anything. Even killed him, if I could’ve done it without hurting her. So I guess what I’m saying is—” He cleared his throat and squeezed her hand hard. “I guess I can understand you withholding a bit of evidence. Even if it was from me.”

She covered his hand with her right. Their hands, at least, were back where they belonged. “And I can understand you were only doing your job. Even if it did mean suspecting Katie.”

His brow was still troubled. “But listen, Em—I’ve got to know you trust me from now on. And I’ve got to know I can trust you.”

She brought their joined hands to her heart. “I think I went a little crazy for a while—chalk it up to change of life, maybe. But it was miserable being on the outs with you. I give you my word, I will never doubt you or betray your trust again.”

Dawn broke over the stormy sea of his eyes. “So we’re good now?”

She smiled, her heart expanding till the empty ache melted away. “We’re good.”

He took her in his arms and kissed her for the first time in weeks. The chorus of cats, still arrayed in the parlor window, looked on and blinked their benediction.