Ella closed her eyes, resting them from eyestrain. Hunched over the burgundy timber tabletop, with her thighs nestled against the ornately sculptured legs dating back to the last century, she massaged her temples and opened her eyes again. She found it hard to believe she was in one of America’s greatest libraries and wanted to absorb the room’s intensity.
Art pieces and heavy looking tables filled the vast, hushed reading room known as Bates Hall. The space was illuminated by a profusion of green lampshades resembling fireflies. A series of arched windows on the eastern side dwarfed most of the room. Internet and power connections were discreetly placed to ensure modern technology took nothing away from the ambience of the room. Dominated by its domed, coffered ceiling, the room resembled a wide-arched barrel vault.
She inhaled the smell unique to libraries that only a bookworm could appreciate. The strong scent of old leather mingled with the polished fragrance of the tables.
She jumped when Zane whispered, “Want to take a break? Go out to the courtyard?”
As they’d already been given permission to leave the material on the desk when they needed a break, Ella tidied the collection of microfiche plates they were reading and nodded, then waved to the librarian on their way out.
She was met with a blustery autumn wind, a relief from the sterile air indoors. Zane released her hand and they both clutched their jackets a little closer to their chests. It wasn’t too cold, but rather a pleasant change while they recharged.
“I’ll grab us a snack. You find a seat.” Zane gave her a quick kiss and turned towards the café they’d discovered. She followed the arched walkway that enclosed the courtyard, which was square in shape. A similar four-sided pond, with a fountain spraying water into the air, was built at its centre. She reached up to her cheek to brush off the cool droplets that had carried on the breeze.
She smiled and left the cover of the walkway. Her shoes sank into the soft lawn of the courtyard. She sat at an empty table and relaxed, mesmerised by the continual rise and fall of the water as it sprayed upwards from the fountain’s base.
With her elbows resting on the concrete table, she yawned and rubbed her face, surprised by how tired she felt. They’d arrived bone-tired at noon the previous day. She’d been relieved to find their motel room comprised two single beds, and she’d slept soundly until morning.
With so much going on, she didn’t think she could deal with her feelings for Zane. She wanted to wait until she had more available headspace. A shared bed wasn’t on her agenda yet.
“You okay?”
Zane sat beside her and placed his purchases on the table, then seeming to change his mind, swung one leg behind her. He pulled her against his chest and wrapped his arms around her.
Her backside only just fit on the concrete picnic seating and she burst out laughing. “Weirdo.”
“You love it,” he teased, his mouth ravishing her neck and ears.
And she did. She closed her eyes and rested the back of her head against his cheek, hoping he was holding her properly.
When he eventually stilled his mouth, he asked, “I take it the Boston Herald didn’t give you any new leads?”
She pushed against his arms and climbed over his thighs to sit beside him. “No.” She unscrewed the top off the water bottle and took a sip then reached past him for the sandwiches he’d purchased. “Absolutely nothing.”
They’d found one short article in The Boston Globe, announcing Thomas Van Der Meeliko and his wife, Catherine, were no longer married. Details were scant and there was no hint of her disappearance. Ella would have been just over two years old when the article was printed. How had her father managed to keep that sort of news out of the papers? Would he have paid for silence back in those days?
Every single newspaper article she read, in some small or big way, exaggerated the importance and impact this family had in Boston. Whether the article related to a donation to a charity, or a political decision made for the benefit of the city, emphasis was always placed on reminding the public that a member of the Van Der Meeliko family was involved. Under different circumstances this could have been her upbringing. Ella shuddered, certain she would’ve hated it. She preferred privacy and distance from the limelight. But would she have known any different?
Zane insisted they keep searching but her patience had long since run out. The only reason she kept silent was because Zane needed to find clues about his mother. He didn’t say much, but the few things he had said spoke volumes. So, she swallowed back her impatience and stuck to the monotonous task of scanning old newspapers.
She unwrapped a sandwich. “The Herald barely goes a day when a Van Der Meeliko isn’t mentioned. It’s tedious reading, the articles covering either political or financial news. I wouldn’t mind if I had more time, but when you’re after specific information these articles start to sound the same.” She took a bite and passed the other half of the sandwich to Zane, then stated, “And no clues on your mother, either.” She looked up at the building’s roof and shook her head. “Who is she and what is the connection with my mother?”
They ate in silence, Ella trying to clear her head of the fuzziness from concentrating all morning. Her ears pricked up when the sound of a flute carried on the breeze. It was the sweetest sound she’d ever heard. She turned towards it and gasped. How had she not seen the neat rows of seats and the crowd gathered in the courtyard? The music mellowed her fractious thoughts when a bride and her father made their entrance. Ella glanced at the other visitors in the courtyard; invited or not, everyone sat transfixed.
The groom and celebrant waited at the front of the crowd. Seeing them transported Ella to her childhood, when Luke had been forced to play that role of groom, and she and Victoria had taken turns as the bride.
Zane sat behind her again and gathered her in his arms. He whispered near her ear. “Is this your kind of wedding venue?”
She hesitated before saying, “I would’ve said no, because I always imagined a small chapel by the ocean, but this is so appealing and special. The photos will look amazing with the green lawn and the gorgeous building in the background.”
“Chapel by the sea, huh? Good choice,” he said, as she soaked up the image of the happy couple in the beautiful surroundings.
Ella and Zane sat holding hands as the small tour coach wound its way around the historic Beacon Hill neighbourhood. With her head resting against Zane’s shoulder, Ella inhaled the familiar woody scent of his aftershave. It permeated his shirt and skin and reminded her of how, as a kid, she had lain on the lawn under the trees in their backyard. Being with Zane reminded her of happy times with her family during her childhood. She failed to recall any past boyfriend who brought to mind these carefree memories.
When she glanced outside again, she wasn’t surprised to see narrow streets fringed with historic gas lamps. The place had that sort of feel to it. She took in the old colonial-brick row houses with beautiful doors, decorative ironwork and brick sidewalks. Every few minutes the coach stopped and the tour guide named the owner of the property and told them a little of its history. It soon became apparent that the Federal-style houses in this suburb were regarded as the most desirable homes in Boston.
“This is the residence of Thomas Van Der Meeliko and his family.” Ella straightened and took in every word the tour guide said. “A pioneering family and one of the first to settle in Boston in its early days, they were prominent banking businessmen and, to this day, are still strong in commerce and finance. In the centre of Boston’s CBD, you’ll find it difficult to miss the building synonymous with the Van Der Meeliko name. Tonight, if you’re in the central business area, look up. The name is lit up on all four sides of one of the tallest high-rises.”
Ella absorbed all this information, squeezing Zane’s fingers tightly. Her father owned a high-rise? Only when Zane gently prised her hand off his did she realise how tight her grip was. Glancing down for a second, she swiftly jerked her head back up, not wanting to miss taking in her father’s residence, what could’ve been her childhood home. What sort of family had that much money?
“This area is known as Louisburg Square, a very desirable residential neighbourhood,” the tour guide continued.
“The most expensive residential neighbourhood in all the USA,” Zane whispered close to her ear.
She gasped. What reasons did her mother have for leaving? In all the newspaper stories Ella had scanned, not once had she read anywhere that her father was an undesirable husband, including to his second wife. There must have been a good reason for her mother to leave, and why had Thomas been concerned for her sanity?
Ella craned her neck back. She wanted one last glimpse of her father’s home before the coach trundled around the corner.
“The next part of our tour takes us to the Massachusetts State House. It’s prominently positioned at the top of Beacon Hill and …”
She switched off, thoughts swirling around her head. They’d spent two days at the library with no success, so Zane had insisted they treat themselves to a day of touristy things. Which they were now enjoying. But tomorrow was Thursday, and by Saturday, they would be on their way back home. There was no more time to waste.
She turned away from the window and faced Zane. He stared at her with an odd look on his face.
“What?” she asked.
He placed his arm around her shoulder and pressed her against his side. “More to the point, what’s going on inside your head? The cogs are vibrating through your skin.”
She rolled her eyes at him before smiling. His ability to sense certain things was scary. “I’m going to pay my father a visit tomorrow.”
“What?” Zane sat up erect, his hand pinching her shoulder. “You need to think about this.”
Ella shrugged his arm away and, trying to whisper, instantly rebelled. “What for? Didn’t you say it was my decision whether or not to make contact? I’m not coming back to Boston any time soon. It’s time to sort this out. What’s the worst he can do? Deny my existence? He’ll be the one to miss out on my great company for the rest of his life.”
A frown burrowed its way along Zane’s brow. “You’re too impatient. Let’s talk about this first before deciding the best way to go about it.”
He refused to turn away and kept his gaze pinned on her face.
She shook her head. “I’m not wasting this trip, and we don’t have any time left for planning. We know who he is and where to find him.”
“What if he won’t see you straight away? You probably need to make an appointment a week in advance.”
She pushed her shoulders back and turned away from Zane’s frown. “Then I’ll walk past his secretary and find him myself. After all, didn’t you do something similar not so long ago?”