Rising Tides. Emilie Richards
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and the water was a dark seaweed green. She thought of Phillip’s story, of a small boy and girl caught up in the water’s fury, of a woman screaming as her lover cut the thin tether that anchored her to the future.
She covered her ears. “I hate this place! How can you even think about staying? We weren’t welcome yester day, and we’ll be less so now. Once Ferris Gerritsen finds out what Phillip is saying, he’ll come after us with everything he’s got.”
“I’ll be looking forward to that.”
She faced him. “You think anybody in this state would take your side in a fight with the almighty senator?”
“I spent the first part of my life running from who I was, and the second part making peace with it. I plan to spend the last part standing up for what’s mine. You going to stand with me?”
“You’re not my conscience, Jake. If I stay, I stay be cause it’s right for me. For me!”
“I know. I’m just asking you to take a little time to let it all settle.”
“Give me some time alone before I have to face everybody again.”
He left quietly. He had been gone for a long time be fore Nicky was calm enough to think about her surroundings. The room was airy and feminine, decorated in a casual beach-house style with which she felt completely comfortable. Aurore Gerritsen no longer seemed a stranger. She had left her personal stamp everywhere. Nicky stood in the bedroom of the woman who had reached from the grave, claiming to be her mother, and she cursed Aurore for ever having been born.
Nicky didn’t look right or left. She held out her hand as Spencer stepped in front of her. Spencer’s wasn’t quite steady as he rested a jeweler’s box in her palm. “Aurore hoped that this might, in some small way, explain a great injustice.”
Nicky didn’t speak, and neither did anyone else.
Ben and Phillip exchanged glances. Phillip had told Ben the truth about Nicky and Aurore, and Ben knew that he had told Dawn, as well. Now, judging from the rigid set of her head, Nicky knew, too.
Nicky’s fingers closed around the box. She stood and left the morning room without a word. Jake followed.
“There’s nothing Aurore could have put in that box or anywhere else that’s going to make this any easier.” Phillip rose from his seat beside Ben and left the room, too.
“Just so you’ll know, we’re finished for the day,” Spencer told the rest of them. “We’ll meet tomorrow at the same time.”
Since he awakened that morning, Ben had wanted to talk to Dawn. He had wanted to talk to her even more after Phillip recounted what had passed between them that morning. But Dawn had eluded him. Now she stood between her parents and Spencer, a willowy guard dog of an old man.
As Ben watched, Cappy took Ferris by the arm and steered him toward the door. Ben was surprised that there hadn’t been another outburst from the senator, but he suspected Ferris was just biding his time. Cappy glanced back at Dawn, but Dawn, who was busy murmuring something to Spencer, didn’t notice. Dawn linked her arm through the old man’s and pointed outside. They walked to the window together, deep in conversation.
Ben knew better than to push her. They would talk when she was ready. She had already made that plain to him. Whatever happened between them now was on Dawn’s terms. He decided to settle for more reading. Perhaps, by the time they did talk, there would be even more to discuss.
Early in the afternoon, Nicky heard the door open and close. She didn’t turn away from the window. Strong arms enveloped her, and she leaned back, into her husband’s strength. “Where’d you go?”
“Pelichere told me about a bar down the road where I’d be welcome.”
She didn’t ask why he’d had to get a recommendation. She doubted it would ever be any different on the island.
He didn’t say anything else. He just tightened his arms and stood quietly looking out the window.
“I’m sorry I asked you to leave,” Nicky said.
“I had some thinking to do.”
“You’re not even curious what was in the box?” she asked.
“Never said I wasn’t curious.”
“You’re a good man, Jake Reynolds.” She bent for ward and lifted something from the nape of her neck and slipped it over her head. “Here.”
He kept her against him with one arm and dangled the necklace with his free hand. “This is it?”
The locket was old gold, mellowed by age and con tact with human skin. Diamond-studded roses were en twined on the front, etched skillfully by a long-dead craftsman. “There’s a picture inside.”
The catch was difficult to open; she could feel him struggling. She took it from him and pressed the edges until it spread into two identical golden hearts.
“Who is it?” Jake asked.
“You tell me.”
“Then it doesn’t mean anything to you?”
“I didn’t say that.” She stared at the picture. It was dearly familiar, although she hadn’t seen it in more than thirty years. “This was mine when I was a little girl,” she said.
“What?”
“Mine, Jake. The locket was given to me by a friend of my mother’s when I still lived in New Orleans, and she put her own picture inside.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I.”
“If it was yours, why did Aurore Gerritsen have it when she died?”
“That’s another story.”
He didn’t ask her to tell it. He fell silent, but both arms crept around her again.
Nicky felt tears welling up, although she hadn’t cried since opening the box. She snapped the locket shut and slipped it back around her neck. “I need some answers. Will you find Dawn and send her in here?”
“You think she’s going to tell you anything?”
“I’m going on instinct. What else can I do?”
He hugged her hard enough to force the air from her lungs. He always resorted to strength when he was most vulnerable.
She felt the absence of his arms once he’d gone, but she steeled herself for what was to come. She didn’t have to wait long. There was a knock, and Dawn opened the door. “Nicky?”
“Come on in.”
“Jake said—”
“I want you to look at a picture and tell me if you know who it is.”
“Of course.” Dawn approached slowly. “Are you all right?”
“No. Are you?”
“No.”
“Well, we’ve all got that much in common.” Nicky slid her fingers over the locket. She hesitated and looked back up at Dawn. “Have you ever seen this before?”
“I don’t think so.”
Nicky opened the locket. “And this woman?”
Dawn gazed at the photograph for a moment, then at Nicky. “My grandmother when she was young.”
Nicky snapped the locket shut. She turned away.
“Would you like me to leave?” Dawn asked softly.
“She never told me she was my mother. When I was a little girl, your grandmother held me on her lap and brought me presents. She told me she had known my mother, but she never told me who she really was.”
“Oh, God.”