Chapter 29 Leah
Leah
He’d made himself busy in the kitchen while she got dressed, and she came downstairs to find a mug of coffee waiting on the counter and French toast being flipped on the stovetop.
Bowls and utensils littered the wooden counter, afloat in a sea of spilled egg.
On the very edge of the devastation zone lay a plate holding a selection of berries, and the bottle of maple syrup.
Leah paused in the doorway and let her ovaries have a flutter at the barefoot and rumpled man-mountain making breakfast for her with such fierce concentration. White t-shirt today, same cargo shorts. Fit, unpolished, and relaxed, he blinded her like sunshine on water.
Jackson glanced over and grinned. His face was irrepressibly roguish and unbearably sweet. “I thought you might be hungry.”
Her stomach rumbled and his answered. They both smiled. “I could eat.”
Carrying their plates out onto the veranda, they sat on the top step, looking over the backyard.
The heat was building already—it was going to be another hot one—but the house cast enough shade that it was cool and comfortable where they perched.
A light breeze danced in the branches of the huge beech tree way beyond the gazebo, and she breathed in the scent of summer flowers and Jackson—a potent combination that made her pulse dance.
Taking a bite of French toast, Leah marveled at the fact that this man, who had grouched and snapped at her from the moment they’d met, had not only given her the best night of her life but also made her breakfast after.
Sliding her eyes over to take him in, she knew the attraction would have flared in the same way for her however they’d met.
Would he have felt it, too, if they hadn’t been forced to live under one roof?
He’d opened up so much in the last twenty-four hours. He deserved at least some of her trust while she considered where they went from here.
“Your grandmother left a diary behind. Just one. It’s from 1972—the year Esther was twenty-two.
I found it upstairs when I was looking for something else.
” The words tumbled out of her mouth and the relief was considerable.
Knowing about the diary had been like an itchy label in the neck of a new sweater, and finally sharing it with Jackson went halfway to unpicking the label’s stitching.
“There was a photo in it, too. Of her and Hazel. I meant to ask you if I could give it to Hazel.”
“Of course.” Jackson didn’t seem bothered and she grappled for a way to explain the rest.
Go big or go home.
“I’ve read some of it. I know I shouldn’t have—I’m sorry.” Leah fidgeted and Jackson raised an eyebrow. “I was looking through some old notepads under her bed for some book information and the diary was right there at the bottom of the pile. I opened it before I realized what it was.”
“That’s OK.” He stretched his long legs out in front of him, tilting his head up to the sun in a way that whispered relaxation.
It looked good on him. She smiled. “Esther talks a lot about the things she got up to with Hazel and your grandfather—they’d just started dating.
But half of it’s missing. It’s a little strange—”
“Strange in what way?” He cracked an eye and Leah leaped to her feet.
“Wait here.” Running upstairs, Leah retrieved the diary, returned to the veranda, and plopped down, breathless. She pushed it into his hands. “Turn to the end.”
Jackson tried to give it back. “Why don’t you read it to me?”
“Take a look,” she urged. “You need to see it yourself.”
He stared at her hard, a little guarded, a little wary. She squeezed his leg and Jackson nodded, flipping the book over and opening the cover. The trust he gave her glowed like an ember in Leah’s chest.
It took him a moment, his eyebrows raising as he read each word. “‘I hate him, I hate him, I hate him’? Who does she hate? What’s she talking about?”
“I don’t know. She doesn’t say. The rest of the diary is pretty light-hearted. It’s scattered and chatty and full of things like bike rides and shopping and going to the movies with Hazel. Innocent times.”
“Maybe she fell out with my grandfather.”
“I don’t think so.” Leah was pretty sure. “She writes such lovely things about him and always uses his name. This guy—the one she hates—she calls The Creep.”
Jackson read another few entries. He flipped the diary over in his hands. It was small and feminine between his fingers. “Have you shown this to Hazel?”
“Not yet. I wanted to show it to you first.”
“Thank you.” His eyes softened, and after another mouthful of toast he suggested, “Let’s go and see her, together.”
They found Hazel filling the bird feeders on her front porch. Her face lit up as they approached the carriage house and she gave a satisfied nod. “Well, this is a treat! What can I do for you two?”
“I found a diary.” Leah jumped straight in. “It’s Esther’s, from when you were in your early twenties.”
“Interesting.” Hazel bent down to pick up a stray peanut. It evaded her fingers for quite some time. “Why don’t I make a pot of tea and you can show me?” she suggested when she finally straightened again.
Jackson carried the tray out onto her compact porch and they sat at a small, circular table.
Although Leah knew he’d prefer coffee, Jackson sipped without comment, holding the delicate teacup with care.
Leah passed the diary over and, because the latter half had been ripped from the binding, it fell brokenly open on those final pages.
She winced a little at the capitalized script shouting up from Hazel’s lap.
The old lady’s eyebrows rose, then settled as she gently traced the slashed, green words that sprawled furiously across the page.
“She was a fireball, wasn’t she?” Hazel murmured, misty admiration lighting her eyes.
“I’ve often thought she was the most fabulous person I’ll ever know.
” Her finger between the pages, she closed the book, looked at the front cover for a moment, and opened it again.
“I’ve never seen this before. I didn’t know she kept a diary. ”
“It’s the only one I found. In a suitcase under her bed.” Leah took a sip of her tea. “I showed Jax this morning.”
Hazel nodded and stared out across the front yard. She seemed lost in thought, one foot in the past.
Leah exchanged a glance with Jackson and twisted the silver ring on her thumb. “Can you tell us anything you remember about this time?”
The old lady studied an entry which read simply:
Esther Hale.
Esther May Hale.
Mrs. Esther Hale.
Just practicing.
“Esther loved Atherton from the moment she saw him,” Hazel said slowly with a smile.
“I say ‘loved’—there was a whole heap of fancying to start off with, for sure. She thought he was the cat’s pajamas, as handsome as Gregory Peck, with his glasses and dark hair.
I think his reserve and his quiet intelligence hooked her.
He was equally bowled over. That never changed.
Esther was Sirius, the brightest star in his night’s sky, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her. ”
Something painful and envious flipped in Leah’s chest at the thought of meaning that much to someone.
“But Esther’s parents were terrible snobs.
Not unkind, just thoughtless. And ambitious for their daughter, in an old-fashioned way.
They weren’t impressed with Atherton’s career prospects.
A lowly teacher didn’t rate high enough in their plans for their only daughter.
” Hazel sniffed. “They were dismissive when she told them she loved him.”
“Who did they want Esther to date?” Leah curled her legs beneath her on the bench seat, leaning forward. Jackson’s hand nudged hers but he didn’t link their fingers.
“Some family friends had a son, similar in age to Esther, who stood to inherit a well-established business from his father. He had money, social standing, and the confidence of someone who was going places. Her parents adored him as much as Esther despised him,” Hazel said, bitterness creeping into her tone.
She ran her fingers across the cover of Esther’s diary, over the date on the front.
“Why?” Leah asked.
“Why did they love him?”
“No, why did she hate him?”
The old lady’s eyes flared. “He was one of those men who thought all females were stupid. He was loud and opinionated. We both found him repellent.”
“She called him ‘The Creep,’” Leah said. “Who was he, Hazel?”
“His name was Dickie and he was just a guy she didn’t want to date.
She told her parents to their faces she wasn’t interested, that Atherton was the man for her.
All the money in the world wouldn’t have changed her mind.
” Hazel’s voice was growing softer, though her fingers on her teacup were tight.
“They didn’t take it well but girls had more choice by that stage.
And Esther was resolute. She said it was all rather exciting to stand firm.
She had no doubt she was doing the right thing, that her future lay with Atherton, and nothing could come between them. ”
“What happened?”
Hazel didn’t answer. Leah opened her mouth to nudge her again, saw her friend’s capable hands tremble against the china, and snapped her lips closed. Beside her, Jackson’s eyebrows pinched together over narrowed eyes.
The silence drew out for several minutes. Then Hazel continued in a brighter, firmer voice. “It’s all a long time ago now. Sometimes it’s better to let things go than to keep poking at old bruises.”
She stood up and began to gather the crockery.
Taking the tray, Jackson carried it into the house.
Leah expected Hazel to chatter on in her usual fashion, but the old lady just sat watching a small brown bird flit from one branch to the next in a nearby tree.
This hadn’t gone the way she’d expected.
The hollow expression on Hazel’s face fell away with Jackson’s return and the smile she gave him was a close facsimile of her usual one.
“Do me a favor, love, and rehang the feeders for me? I don’t want to keep the nuthatches from their breakfast.” She pointed to a couple of hooks on the French navy fascia boards.
“And I’ve planted you up a pot of pansies.
I thought it would look pretty on the porch steps.
You can take it back with you when you go. ”
It seemed the discussion about the diary was over for now.