Chapter Thirty-Four
More to the Story
The hinges on the library’s front door closed with a deafening squeal. Even though it was small, the journal I’d taken weighed like a brick in my pocket. I tried not to look at the aisles where I’d wandered with Bryce, the thought of him too painful.
Ms Ruthie sat regally on her chair at the information desk, a queen surveying the layout of her kingdom. She didn’t bother to look at me before saying, ‘I hope you’re returning what you pilfered from my archives.’
‘Your archives?’
Her glasses skidded down her nose. ‘When you guard them the way I do, they often feel proprietary.’
I pulled the journal from my pocket and set it on the desk.
She pressed her lips thin. ‘Heard anything from that reporter?’
‘No,’ I answered flatly. ‘And you know his name is Bryce.’
She gave me a determined look and pointed to the staircase leading to the second floor. ‘You and I should talk.’
Ruthie was a fierce friend to Clo, and it was pointless to argue, because she wouldn’t let me leave until I heard her out.
She grabbed the journal, and I followed her up to the study room.
The late afternoon sun seeped through the stained-glass window, color spilling across the floor like a muted Monet painting.
Bryce had sat at our table near the window, all smiles and teasing only a few weeks ago. The heat and scent of him close enough to touch. He was long gone and yet that link, bond, between us felt as real as if he was only sitting inches away.
Ms Ruthie pulled out a chair at one of the mahogany tables. Sank down into the one next to me with a tired huff. ‘I’m still a little miffed that Clo didn’t call me when you were all scrambling around during that wildfire two weeks ago.’
‘You were in Denver. What were you going to do? Speed back on your Vespa?’
Her left brow hitched up. ‘When it comes to supporting your grandmother, do not underestimate me, Dandelion.’ She laid her hands flat on the table, her shoulders inching up to her ears.
‘Clo and I have been through a lot. When she lost Beau…’ Her eyes went watery.
‘That was a difficult period. You were old enough to remember that time, but you don’t know the entire tale. ’
Unease writhed like a snake in my chest. ‘Enlighten me.’
‘Clo’s told me you are aware of certain things about Bella, and, in turn, her.’
When I stayed quiet, hands folded in my lap, she said, ‘Like Beau, I was always encouraging her to be honest with you girls. But your grandmother is loyal to a fault sometimes. She’d given Bella her word, and she wouldn’t be shaken from that promise.’
‘And that made my grandpa unhappy. Clo already explained that to Aster and me.’
‘That’s true, but there’s more to the story.’
There’d been so many family revelations lately, so much sadness, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know more, but the set of Ms Ruthie’s mouth said it was important.
‘Go on,’ I said in a muted voice.
‘Beau understood Clo in a way no one else could. A lot of that was probably because of all the history and rumors swirling around their families. She could be at ease with him. Not hide any part of herself.’
‘That makes sense.’
Her eyes went sad as she went on. ‘But her ancestors, they’d been through a lot over the decades. Clo’s mother, Opal, she married into the Perkins bloodline. When she discovered what Clo could do, it terrified her. That terror turned into cruelty.’
‘But Clo was her child.’
‘People fear what they don’t understand and, sadly, Opal was very unkind. I think your grandmother was relieved when she learned she couldn’t get pregnant. There was a part of her that thought without any children between her and Beau, the magic would be ended for good.’
‘Well, that didn’t happen, obviously, but it does explain Clo’s reticence and worry once Belladonna was born.’
Her gaze moved to the blaze of warm yellow sun bursting through the window.
‘When your grandmother discovered what Bella could do, she worried her child would end up being bullied in the same way she was. That fear seeped into their relationship, and it soured things between them. Clo will be the first one to admit that’s why Belladonna took off right after she turned eighteen.
The pain she carried after that, Beau felt it all too, because he loved her so much.
He didn’t want her carrying that burden with you girls, too. ’
‘She kept the promise, and truth about the magic, from us because she was trying to make up for what happened before with Bella?’
‘Partly. She also wanted to protect you girls, the way she believed she was protecting Bella,’ she said with a sad sigh.
‘Is this your way of telling me that we should ease up on Clo a bit?’
‘As her best friend, that is my duty, but there’s something else I think you should know about this.’ She tapped at the cracked brown leather cover of the journal. ‘It’ll bring a lot of clarity about who the Perkins women are, and why you all feel such a strong tether to the line.’
I sat back in the chair. ‘I’m listening.’
She opened the worn pages of the sheriff’s journal to an entry I’d already read several times: the day Jeremiah died.
‘This is the story from one man’s point of view, and there are many facts left out.
’ She pressed her fingers against the time-worn ink.
‘Clo’s told me about this incident several times.
It’s old family lore by now. It piqued my interest that this was the only narrative, though.
’ Her eyes filled with determination. ‘I did some digging, looking at other first-hand accounts from people who lived in Harvest Moon at the time. I even discovered a few records written by the deputy who was assisting the sheriff.’
I moved to the edge of the chair. ‘What did you find?’
‘As usual when it comes to history, especially in regard to women, only half the tale was told.’ She flipped the journal back to the first mysterious fire at the mercantile.
‘Jeremiah started out as a miner. He got lucky. Found some gold in northern California. Came here to try his luck with silver. When he wasn’t successful, he started the mercantile.
He was young and strong. The women in Harvest Moon took notice of him right away, but he set his sights on Ambrosia from the start.
’ Her throat worked uncomfortably. ‘He hid his dangerous and abusive ways from her until after they were engaged. That slimy toad knew once he had Ambrosia in his grasp, society would frown upon her backing out.’
‘Bastard,’ I murmured but motioned for her to go on.
‘After reading all the notes and records I could find, I suspected that the first fire was set by Ambrosia after he struck her in the mercantile. It was a warning to him, a warning he did not heed. They went on to marry, and the incident with the barmaid came months later. I believe that was the final straw for Ambrosia, especially since she was pregnant.’
She went quiet, her fingers toying with the edge of the journal. There was a tic in her cheek like she was holding back an important fact. Waiting for me to put it all together.
‘You don’t think Ambrosia set fire to the house,’ I said quickly.
‘Her husband was a real douchebag, but no.’
‘Okay, so what makes you think she was innocent?’
‘Jeremiah swindled numerous people in town. Was a gambler and a cheat. I found an account of that final night from the deputy. Jeremiah was thrown out of the saloon after it was discovered he’d hidden a few aces up his sleeve while playing poker.
Not more than a half hour later, the house went up in flames. ’
‘And Ambrosia? Where was she?’
‘There was a history of colic in the family. Word was that she’d been spending nights with Sylvia so she could help care for the young baby, James.’
‘So she had an alibi? Why was that not written in the sheriff’s account of the night?’
Her thin pink lips pursed. ‘There were lot of other people in town who wanted Jeremiah dead, and who knew the rumors about Ambrosia. That’s why they set the fire. They wanted her to take the blame.’
‘But the sheriff, he never outwardly cleared her. He knew the truth but never told a soul?’
‘Back then, the folks who ran the saloon and other nefarious businesses were powerful and persuasive people. The sheriff obviously did not want to dig too deep.’
‘So he just let everyone think she was a murderer? That she’d killed her husband with magic?’ My angry voice batted about the rafters. Ruthie’s gaze flew back to the library, reminding me that even up here I needed to be quiet.
‘Sadly, it was easier to let people believe what they wanted, rather than tell the truth.’
‘That sheriff was a damn coward.’
‘True,’ she said with a sigh. ‘The only decent thing Jeremiah did was leave the mercantile to Ambrosia. She sold it for a pretty penny, most likely to the men who killed her husband. For years after, the women struggled to keep the apothecary going because of the rumors. The one thing those men did not bet on was the will and bravery of Sylvia and Ambrosia. They were stronger than the ore mined in these mountains. They stood together, found strength in each other, until they eventually turned the apothecary into a profitable business.’
She closed the journal, and my mind churned with a handful of emotions.
Relief that my four-times great-grandmother was not a killer.
Anger that the sheriff did not have the courage to tell the truth.
A thin vein of guilt weaved its way through my bones.
My blood had stood their ground. Not run away when things got tough, even when those around them thought they were inhuman.
‘You’re quiet.’ Ms Ruthie broke through my thoughts.
‘I’m confused, mad and a little ashamed.’
‘Oh, honey,’ she said with a sad hitch in her voice.
‘I didn’t tell you this story so you’d feel bad.
All I needed you to know is that your family, the women in your line, they’ve endured many horrors, but they’ve always stood together to face whatever hideous lies were thrown at them.
I believe you and Lia and Aster can do the same, no matter what that journalist writes. ’
She set her chin. ‘I don’t normally do this, but I think you should hold on to the journal for a while.
’ She pushed it in my direction. ‘Read it over again. Gather strength from knowing Ambrosia and Sylvia stood firm, even in the face of all the accusations against them. I can’t tell you what to do, but there are many people in this town who love and admire you and your sisters.
It may be uncomfortable for a while, but time passes and people have short memories.
’ Her hand slid over the top of mine and squeezed.
‘I hope you’ll trust in the fact that you belong here.
That you and Lia and Aster make this town a better place. ’
Her phone buzzed with a text. ‘I have to go. There’s someone at the desk who needs help.’ She gave me a sad smile. ‘No matter what happens, both your grandmother and I will always be here for you.’
She disappeared down the stairs, and I tucked the journal against my chest. I was glad I knew the truth about Sylvia and Ambrosia. How brave they’d been at the most difficult moment of their lives. The question was, did I have that same strength to fight for what my sisters and I had built here?