His Winter Rose. Lois Richer
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thunderclaps rumbled their warnings across the water, and every so often a jagged slash of silver-blue lightning illuminated the rich, black-green forest across the lake for one brief space in time. A few droplets of rain spattered on the flagstones.
Why didn’t he say something?
“When I sit out here and see all the beauty God’s created, I can’t help but think of that hymn, ‘How Great Thou Art.’” It sounded silly, but Piper chalked her uneasiness up to the odd situation with the lights and the feeling that someone was watching them.
“I feel the same way,” Jason admitted. “There are so many lovely places around Serenity Bay. That’s one reason why I want to stay on top of the development we let in. It would be terrible to see the forests cut, the lake polluted and the coastline ruined in the name of progress. Know what I mean?”
She nodded. “Yes, I know. It’s like we’ve been entrusted with something precious, and while I do want others to see and appreciate it, I also want it to be here a hundred years from now.”
“For your grandchildren,” he teased.
“Yes,” she whispered. But Piper didn’t laugh.
Ever since that horrible afternoon she’d kissed Vance goodbye, she’d never allowed herself to think about kids. That only brought stabs of regret for what could never be. Her mother had clung to enough regrets for all of them. At twenty-three, when she’d left Wainwright Inc., Piper had made up her mind that she would never end up like her mother, pining for a man so consumed by making money he didn’t know what his own family was doing.
To love someone so much and have him ignore you—until you lost the will to live— No!
Love best suited people like her grandparents. Vance’s death proved that. Since he’d been gone, Piper had built a wall around her heart. She’d talked to her minister about it, talked to God about it, but somehow she couldn’t risk letting anyone get too close in case she got hurt again. Maybe that’s why she couldn’t trust God when it came to her father. God’s ways were slow and she had to stop Baron now.
“This has been great, but I think I’d better go now that the lightning has stopped. It’s getting quite late.” Jason stood, smiled down at her.
“You don’t have a light on your boat?” Piper asked, rising, too.
“Oh, yes. I won’t have any difficulty getting back.”
“Oh.” Obviously he was simply anxious to get away from her.
“I teach some boys a Sunday school class and I like to bone up on my lessons on Saturday night. They always have questions.” He stepped down off the deck, then turned back. “You’re very welcome to join us, if you’d like. It’s Bayside Believers Church, about half a block from Ida’s. If you meet me on the dock at nine-thirty, I’ll give you a ride. It’s always easier to go somewhere new with somebody else, don’t you think?”
His thoughtfulness touched a chord inside her. How was it he’d managed to read her so easily while he remained an enigma to her?
“Thank you. I’d like that. I’ll be there.”
“I’ll wait for you then. Good night.”
“Good night.” Piper stood on the deck, watching as he wound his way down the path and climbed aboard his boat.
When he looked up, she waved, waited for the sound of his powerful motor to recede then picked up the two mugs and walked inside, carefully locking the door behind her.
She rinsed the mugs, but left them in the sink until morning. Right now there was something else she needed to do.
Piper quickened her step down to the basement. She grabbed a nearby flashlight and shone it on the door. Yes, those were tool marks. And they were new.
She moved back upstairs, checked the back doorknob. No marks. Same thing on the front. No sign of forced entry. Her entire body slumped in relief.
“Thank you, Lord.”
Then she remembered.
“If you ever come and can’t get in, we’ll have a key hidden right here. Nobody will know about it but us.”
Piper flicked on the outside lights, unlocked the door and stepped onto the deck once more. She trod lightly across the deck, stopped in one corner. Her grandmother’s wishing well sat there, unused after the cold winter, cobwebs, dried leaves and dust frills gathered around the bottom.
The day she’d arrived she’d discovered one of her grandfather’s diaries was missing. It contained her grandfather’s thoughts from the last year of his life and it was the only one she hadn’t read, thinking she’d leave it until the grief wasn’t so fresh and it didn’t seem as if he were sitting there, saying the words to her.
Piper bent, tilted the well and slid her fingers beneath, searching for the key. Nothing. She pushed and shoved the heavy wooden piece, propped it up with a piece of wood, then shone her flashlight beneath.
There was no key.
She’d come here once after her grandparents had gone into the home and again after they’d died. The key had been there then. So had the diary. She could close her eyes right now and see the gilt letters etched on the leather cover.
Someone had taken the key and the journal.
Someone like Baron Wainwright?
After a hasty survey of the garden, Piper stepped back inside, closed and locked the door. She made sure all the windows were secure before she phoned the police. Piper felt certain they would find little and she was right. The police left no wiser than when they’d arrived.
Even so, Baron was the top suspect on her list. He’d hated her grandparents because they’d shielded her when he’d tried to force her back home years ago. He’d hated her because she’d told him the truth—that her mother would never have condoned his hateful behavior toward them, threatening them with legal action and lawsuits, but stood up to him and demanded he leave them alone or she’d disown him. And because she wouldn’t bow to his wishes.
Was taking Papa’s diary his way of denying her the solace she might have found in those last beloved words? Or was it a trick, a way to get her to call him and beg for what was rightfully hers?
If he thought she’d come crawling to him, he was in for disappointment. Piper had nothing more to say to her father.
Soft rain began falling, muffling the world outside. Piper lit a fire and curled up in her grandfather’s chair. She opened her briefcase and focused her attention on her plans for Serenity Bay.
But her thoughts kept returning to the tall, handsome mayor and the sense of gentleness she’d felt when he escorted her home.
Jason was a nice man. If she didn’t disappoint him about the Bay they could be good friends. But that’s all they’d be. Her heart couldn’t risk anything more.
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