Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Maple
My laptop gives a satisfying snap when I close it for the day. A concerned musician, whose most recent song just hit the top ten on the billboards this week reached out about her mini labradoodle peeing at inopportune times. Emergency sessions are quite pricey and this lady didn’t bat an eye at my fee, so I gladly took the session while Holt went for a long run.
I spent most of the session informing the human client about walking schedules and letting the poor thing out to pee at regular intervals. I was as gentle as I could be, but I was fuming inside about people adopting pets and then not giving them the time and attention they deserved.
My head falls back against the couch and I stretch out my tired limbs. Between our workouts together and our extracurricular activities at night, I’m not getting as much sleep as I’m used to. Believe me, I’m not complaining. A grin spreads across my face, thinking about the alien romance Holt’s reading. He’s just so much fun. Full of life and open to possibilities.
Dexter was the opposite. Despite being a hardcore yogi, which I thought would make him flexible in life along with his body, he was the opposite. He was so rigid in his ideas that he was quite miserable to live with. Too loud of laughter was just as taboo as loud arguing. His environment had to be zen at all times, to the point of making me feel like I had to tiptoe around our apartment together. And I did. Literally tiptoed in my own damn apartment. I accommodated him, just like I always accommodated my family.
My gaze falls on the stack of books on the end table that Grandma handed off to Holt the other day. Most of them are romances, but one in particular on the bottom of the stack catches my eye. It has a faded brown leather spine. Certainly there are no Fabios on that cover. I stand up and head over, moving the romances to get to the leather-bound book. I smooth my hand over the almost glossy finish, like this leather has been touched daily for years. My heart begins to hammer against my ribs. This looks like…a journal.
I flip it open to the first page and see Grandma’s pretty cursive declaring the diary as hers. The date written beneath her name makes my breath catch. 1963.
The cabin door bangs open and a deliciously sweaty Holt fills the doorway. His abs flex and expand with each heaving breath. Mookie’s tongue hangs out the side of her mouth. She sploots to the wood floor immediately over the threshold, pooped out from the run. She doesn’t even wait for Holt to unhook the harness or put a bowl of water in front of her. She just lays her little head down and looks at me with round, pathetic eyes.
“Wow. How far did you go?”
Holt glances down at Mookie and shakes his head, shutting the door. “Only three miles but I may have sped up the pace a bit.”
“You realize her legs are like four inches long, right?”
Holt runs his hand through his sweaty hair, making it stand up on end. Somehow he only looks hotter. “Uhh, yeah. I swear she likes it.” His gaze drops to the journal in my hands. “Whatcha got?”
I hold it up, feverish excitement returning. “It’s one of Grandma’s journals!”
Holt immediately walks to my side and looks over my shoulder as I show him the front page with the date. He smells like soap and a healthy dose of sweat, a delicious combination that makes me want to snuggle up to his bare chest. It’s gross, I know, but there’s something so yummy about Holt, I don’t even mind his sweat. But not right now. I won’t be distracted from possibly finding out who the mysterious Hank is.
“Want to read it with me?”
“Absolutely,” comes his immediate answer. “Do you mind if I shower off real quick though?”
I wrinkle my nose and look over my shoulder. “Yeah, you stink.”
“You love it,” he practically growls in my ear, dropping a sweaty, sloppy kiss on my cheek. I give him a push and he darts off to the bathroom, laughing.
To distract myself while I wait, I get a doggie treat from the kitchen and bring it to Mookie’s snout. She literally hasn’t moved an inch. Her dark eyes turn grateful as she gnaws on the snack. I give her pets and another treat. By the time Holt comes back out freshly showered—but still without a shirt in sight—I’ve gotten her to walk to the food and water bowls. She’ll be all right, though I’m going to suggest Holt go running with some of the larger-breed dogs at the pound that need attention.
We have a seat on the couch, Holt’s arm coming around my shoulders as I snuggle in closer. The sweaty aroma is gone, but he still smells good. A sudden thought has me pausing. “Do you think she’ll mind?”
He tilts his head to the side. “She put it in the stack.”
I nod. Good enough for me. "Okay. Here we go.” I open to the first page of perfectly slanted cursive and we both read silently. Pages flip and laughs and gasps and blurred eyes happen to both of us before we get to the end where a thin gold band is taped to the inside back cover of the journal.
“Oh my God!” My heart is breaking for Grandma Gracie. “He was her first love!”
Holt’s arm pulls me closer. “I hate to say it but maybe we shouldn’t go digging. Maybe we shouldn’t try to find Hank.”
I pull out of his grip and turn my torso to face him. “First loves are important. I think after all this time she’d want to see him, if for no other reason than to get closure.”
He gently taps the journal. “It sounds like she gave herself closure. She moved on. Married your grandfather. Hank showing up now might do more harm than good.”
I’m shaking my head before I even realize it. “No! No,” I say more calmly. “I don’t believe that. First loves leave an imprint on your heart. I think she’d want to see him again. Why else would she leave us the journal?”
Holt’s eyes hold sympathy and it pisses me off. “Because she has dementia and didn’t realize she left it in the stack?”
I jump to my feet, refusing to believe that the vibrant woman who gave me the only three months of the year I looked forward to was no longer of sound mind.
“No. Grandma Gracie put it in the stack for a reason.” Holt stands too, his mouth opening to argue with me and I can’t stand to hear him say no, so I rush forward with my own compromise. “We’ll keep digging, but only to find out why he left and if he’s still alive. Then we can decide if it’s worth telling Grandma we found him. Deal?”
Holt takes my hand in his and studies me. I know he’s given in before he opens his mouth. “Why does this matter so much to you?”
I inhale sharply, trying to put it into words. “Because Grandma Gracie is the only family who’s ever believed in me, and now she might be losing her memories. All those summers together were the best part of my life, and if she can’t remember them, then…” My voice breaks off. I can’t say it. Can’t bear to put it into words.
Holt folds me into his arms and rubs his soothing hands up and down my spine, swaying us back and forth. “Shh. Okay. We’ll keep digging.” He pulls back just enough to look me in the eyes. “But all that love she gave you, all those summers together, they will forever be with you and in your heart and in your memories, no matter what happens with Grandma Gracie. You know that, right?”
A tear trickles down my face, and Holt wipes it away. I nod, though my heart still aches for the one woman who’s mattered the most to me.
“Let me get a shirt and we’ll go to the police station right now. Sound good?” Holt’s looking at me expectantly.
“Thank you,” I whisper, falling into his chest for another one of his comforting hugs. He holds me tight until I’m ready to let go.
He puts on a blue T-shirt that matches his eyes, along with his glasses, mumbling about needing them in case we find anything at the police station. He stoops to pick up Mookie, who must still be wiped out because she doesn’t snap or growl at him for waking her up. He feeds his arms through a harness of some sort and straps her into it, her back to his chest, her four little legs sticking straight out from his chest. I roll my lips in to keep from either bursting out laughing or shedding another tear about how adorable those two look together. The man bought his tiny Yorkie a baby carrier!
We take his Jeep like we always do. He holds my hand as we pull out of the driveway. “I think it’s sweet that you want to find your grandma’s first love for her.”
I glance over. “Well, first loves are important. Who was yours? Macy?”
He doesn’t look at me when he responds. “Hmm. No, I don’t think so. The thing is I don’t know if it was love or just a crush.” He swings his gaze to me, an uncertainty in his eyes that has me wondering if he’s referring to me and our first kiss. “Who was your first love?”
Warmth floods my entire body as I take in this man who has somehow swept into my life again and turned everything on its head. I wasn’t looking for this when I came to Anchor Lake. I only wanted to help Grandma Gracie in her time of need, but somehow feelings of a different kind have snuck in.
“It was you. And same.”
His fingers tighten on mine. The silence that fills the Jeep is heavy with memories and what-ifs. I’m not sure there’s any point to rehashing what might have been if I’d lived in Anchor Lake full-time back then. Or if Holt hadn’t walked away after our kiss. That’s all in the past, written in stone and unchangeable. Unlike what I’m hoping to find out about Grandma Gracie’s past. There’s still time for these two lovebirds to reconnect. When I might be losing so much with Grandma’s diagnosis, I need to believe in a romantic miracle.
The police station isn’t busy when we walk in. A woman in uniform behind the plexiglass front desk gives Holt a warm smile, then reaches down behind her desk to pull out a doggie bone to slide under the opening to Mookie. The officer is pretty in a natural way that also tells me she’s a no-nonsense kind of woman. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a severe bun and her nails are unpainted.
“Bett, this is Maple Thatcher, Gracie Thatcher’s granddaughter. Maple, this is Bett Johnston.” Holt makes the introductions and Bett smiles warmly at me too. “Got stuck on desk duty today?”
“Yeah, but I got first dibs on Jackie’s bourbon donuts, so it all works out. Nice to meet you, Maple. Gracie was always such a character. We’ve missed her now that she’s down at Sunny Shores. What can I do for you three?”
I like her instantly, maybe because she doesn’t ogle Holt and the fact she included Mookie in the body count. People who respect animals are always okay in my book.
“I have sort of an odd request. I’m looking for a crime that was committed in 1963.”
Bett whistles. “That’s all on the computer now. If there’s anything at all, it would be there. Want to come on back and I’ll get you set up on one of the computers?”
Holt nods. “Thanks, Bett.”
A buzzing noise fills the small lobby and Holt swings open the door to the left of the front desk. I sweep inside and Holt follows. Bett meets us and gets us settled at the computer bank against the far wall of the police station. She types in some passwords and pulls up a database.
“Okay, just type in all the information you know and it should pull up any police reports. If you don’t find what you’re looking for, maybe the library would have some old newspaper clippings.”
“Thank you,” I manage to say. I’m so excited my hands are shaking.
Bett leaves us to go back to the front desk. Holt takes the chair in front of the computer and clicks around. I sit next to him and suggest key words to use. We both hold our breaths while the spinning hourglass mocks us from the computer screen. Even Mookie quits her panting and fidgeting.
Finally a list of documents populate the page and Holt clicks on the first one. It’s a report filed by the Anchor Lake Baptist Church, detailing money stolen from the back office. The amount stolen seems pretty small, but maybe it wasn’t so small back in 1963. Holt gets out of that document and clicks on the next listing, both of us reading silently but pointing out anything that catches our eye.
It’s on the fourth document that we both freeze. It’s an interview with a man described as Mr. McGrath. The police asked him about the money and his whereabouts the night of the crime.
Holt sits back in his chair like the keyboard electrocuted him. “They thought someone in my family robbed the church?” He turns to me with wide eyes behind his glasses.
Dread tamps down all the excitement I felt on the way over here. “Maybe they interviewed a lot of people?”
Holt and I stare at each other, wondering what the hell is going on.
Gracie’s diary
(62 years ago)
Dear Diary,
I woke with a jolt. Daddy was yelling in the kitchen, something he rarely does. I sat up and blinked my tired eyes. It took me forever to fall asleep last night because of everything that had happened and everything that had to happen today. How could a girl be so excited and yet so scared all at the same time?
I wanted to marry Hank so badly, but I also wanted my parents to be happy for us, which I knew they wouldn’t be. They wanted me to go to college. Then find a nice boy and settle down. Married at eighteen was what my mama had done and she always said she wanted more for me before I became a wife and mother. How could I convince her that Hank was my something more?
Daddy’s voice rose again and I flung the covers back. Mama’s voice wasn’t as loud, but her tone was insistent. I needed to find out what was going on. Tiptoeing out of my room, I hid in the hallway, listening to them in the kitchen.
“Pastor Clayton said all the tithes from the whole month are gone! That’s not a small hiccup!”
Mama tried to soothe him, but Daddy was too worked up. “I have to get to the church. Charles, down at the drugstore, said he saw McGrath skulking around the church yesterday.” He paused while my heart tripped over itself. McGrath? He had to be talking about Hank’s father. “Lock the doors. I don’t like that family and they live just one block over.”
I sprinted back to my room, shutting the door and sliding to the floor. Tears tracked down my cheeks. I could feel my heart being torn in two. I looked down at my beautiful ring and sobbed.
If Hank’s father robbed the church, my parents would never let me marry Hank.
Sometime later, after I’d cried all the tears I had left in my body, I put on some clothes and put my ear to my door. I was determined to prove Mr. McGrath innocent. That’s what I needed to do before we told them about me and Hank. It was simple. Prove his innocence and everything would be fine.
I could hear Mama on the phone in the kitchen, talking to her friends, probably gossiping all about the robbery, even though she always lectured me about the sins of gossiping. I crept out of my bedroom and tiptoed to the back of the house. I was out the door and on my way to Hank’s, keeping my head down and hoping I didn’t see anyone who’d call Mama and tell her what I was up to.
I’d never been to the McGraths’ house. Hank told me they were just renting and he said his father had a drinking problem. He didn’t like talking about his parents, so I didn’t bring them up much. I looked left and right before ringing the doorbell, but I didn’t see any neighbors watching the house. No one answered, not even when I rang it a second and third time. I slipped around the back, noticing the overflowing trash can and general condition of the property. Maintenance was not high on Mr. McGrath’s priority list it seemed.
The back door was unlocked, so in my panic I opened it, calling out my arrival. No one answered. I stepped inside, heart in my throat. My steps echoed off the walls. Nothing was left. Not one person, not one personal item. Even the bedrooms were stripped of everything. It was like they’d never even been there.
Hank was gone.