Chapter 10
As the sun sinks into the water, we sit cross-legged on large boulders and feast on the food he’s bought, then count the coins and plan. “If we travel third class and take our meals modestly,” I say quickly, “we’ll manage just fine.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “We have a destination now? Where are we going?”
A shiver prickles my arms. “Dunn House.” I smile. “Wear your finest.”
His sparkle fades. “You…you’ve remembered something.”
“Actually, a man merely gave me the name. It’s a long story. But oh, isn’t it exciting?”
His expression does not lift. Then I realize—he has no best. The poor man wears his unease as he does his patched-over coat. I touch his arm. “Perhaps we can cut the trip a day short and find you a better coat or shirt.”
AJ returns to his pasty, which crumbles onto his lap with each bite. He’s staring out at the foamy waves, scrunching his nose.
“What is it?” I scoot closer to him.
“Bought you something.”
“AJ!”
“Don’t worry, it’s a necessity.” He digs inside the paper bag, still half-full of food—he bought far too much of it—and brings out a narrow, cloth-bound book.
“It’s for keeping your memories, so you won’t lose them again.
And look.” He removes the rosewood box from my bag and sets the notebook inside.
“See?” Then he lays his hand on mine with a gentle look of significance. “Meant to be.”
I touch his cheek, running my fingertips along the barest traces of bristle on his jaw. Then I turn and page through the crisp white pages. Bit by bit, it is about to be filled. “Thank you, AJ. It’s perfect.”
“And it only cost a ha’penny.”
I smile. “As Wilde says, ‘Who, being loved, is poor?’” I’ve never fully understood that quote before this moment. I lean back into his embrace and close my eyes.
I take a page of stationery from the back of the journal and write to my Cecil. I’m coming for you soon, just as soon as I’ve found what I’m looking for…I wet a stamp and place it on the envelope.
Then I prop the book open on my lap and set out to pen my story, starting with the day that changed everything—our wedding.
I write like mad, everything I can remember up to this point until my face is warm with memories.
I turn and study AJ’s handsome profile. “What of your story, AJ?” The focus has been on finding mine, but his story’s pages lay largely unturned.
“What of your parents? Your family? You’ve told me so little about them. How did you end up…alone?”
He doesn’t answer. Instead he stares into the orange glow reflecting off the calm waters, arms around his bent knees.
I want to press him. Urgently. There will always be an invisible distance between us, a chink in our love, if I know so little about what formed him.
What is love without authenticity? “Tell me something about yourself.”
He cocks his head, as if thinking up a deep reply, then asks, “Have you learned to swim?”
I blink, pen against my lower lip. “Hardly. I’ve lived inland all my…well, my new life.”
A smile flickers. “Let’s fill more pages in that book, shall we?”
“But Ansel, I haven’t any—Oh!”
He scoops me up and charges toward the pier, notebook discarded in the sand.
“Ansel, wait!” I giggle as I bounce in his arms.
Feet pounding on the boards, he rushes onto the now-empty pier lit by gas lamps and drops me into the crystal clear water.
It’s a shocking chill. I twirl under the water, tiny bubbles tickling my skin, then turn my face toward the sky and shove for the surface in a glorious release of muscles.
My body was cramped by the train, yet now it feels free.
My face breaks the surface and I throw my head back, gasping in air and moonlight and the magic of life along the shore. I begin kicking for the pier.
Yet there is no one waiting for me there. “AJ? AJ!” I bob alone in the water, looking up and down the pier. A sense of loss encircles me and squeezes. “Ansel!” I yell and cough, heart pounding, but my voice merely ripples over empty space.
Suddenly the water explodes behind me and my husband arcs out of the sea in a great burst of water. “Ansel James Winthrop!” I shield my face as he flips in the air, spraying seawater everywhere, and dives back in.
Then he surfaces right before my face with a grin to rival the moon. “Had to make it fair, luv.”
AJ can, apparently, do anything well. I laugh and slap the water. Then I dive and grab his ankles, pulling him down with me, and we somersault through the salty water, dancing in the sea and the night air by turns, laughing and playing and delighting in the moment.
When we surface and sit in the shallows, our backs doused by waves, AJ plucks a smooth rock from the sand and holds it out. “For my love. A piece of your beautiful sea.”
“It’s blue!”
“Not just any blue,” he says, sliding wet hair off my cheek. “Bright and iridescent. Celestial.” He points out the bands of gold running through it. “With an undertone of magic.”
I laugh at his proud smile.
The wind picks up and we emerge, shaking and trembling, but it hardly matters. I’ve recovered another detail—I can swim. My muscles knew exactly how to do it. “Rather risky, don’t you think? Throwing me in that way.” I wring out my skirt on the darkening beach.
“Hardly.” He pauses to shake out his hair as a dog would, forming dark ringlets about his head. “My lady can do anything.” A wink.
I laugh, but it’s cut short when I spot movement ahead where we dropped our things. A sudden flash of realization hits—“AJ. The money. We’ve left it out!”
He breaks into a dead run and I’m close behind him, my frozen legs pumping until the muscles burn. The figure in the distance bolts, vanishing into the rocks.
Ansel reaches our picnic spot and stops abruptly, bending down to grab his knees, catching his breath, and I know already.
The money is gone.