Chapter 6
Chapter Six
She saw Gerald two days later in the bakery.
She went to the village to buy bread and clear her head after another morning on the phone with Whitfield, who was still waiting for news from the General Register Office.
Searching through old files that might not even help took a lot of time.
Waiting was the hardest part. Not knowing what would happen next made her feel stuck.
The smell of yeast and cinnamon wafted around her. She stood at the counter, waiting for her order, when the bell above the door chimed and Gerald walked in.
He saw her immediately. Something flickered across his face—not quite guilt, but close enough that she felt her shoulders tense. She'd avoided him since paying off the loan. She'd been fine with that arrangement continuing indefinitely.
He approached her despite her best “leave me alone” expression.
"Leah," he said. "May I have a word?"
"I'm waiting for bread."
"It'll only take a moment."
She looked at him and saw the old man he was. Something in her told her to respect her elders, even if they had never done the same for her. He seemed smaller than he had at the lantern walk. Older. Exhausted.
Good. He should be. All of them should be ashamed of themselves for the role they played in destroying a family.
"Fine," she said. "One moment."
He gestured toward the small table near the window. She followed him but didn't sit. Neither did he.
"Madeline's not going to court," he said quietly.
Leah blinked. "What?"
"She's not filing a challenge. She never intended to."
The words hung between them while Leah tried to process what she'd just heard. "Then what was the point of all this? The solicitor's letter? The questions about legitimacy?"
"She wants you to sell." Gerald looked uncomfortable. "And leave. Voluntarily. She thought if she made it difficult enough—if she raised enough questions and made you spend enough money defending yourself—you'd decide it wasn't worth it."
Leah felt heat rise in her chest. "She's bluffing."
"She's testing your resolve." He looked over at the counter where the baker was wrapping her order. "She knows going to court would cost her a lot, too, and everyone would hear about it. She doesn't want that. She's hoping you won’t want to fight."
"Why are you telling me this?"
He was quiet for a moment. "Because I'm tired," he said finally. "I'm tired of watching her chase ghosts. Your mother's been gone forty years. Your father's been gone months. None of it matters anymore except to her."
"It matters to me."
"I know." He met her eyes. "That's why I'm telling you. Don't sell. Don't leave. Call her bluff, and she'll fold."
“This is what she did to my mother,” Leah said. “Bullied her into leaving.”
“Yes.”
“Why are people afraid of her?”
He shrugged and shook his head. “I don’t know. Madeline isn’t all bad.”
“You’re married to her, you have to say that.”
He offered a wan smile. “Madeline’s life hasn’t been all roses. She did love your father. I’ll never be him, and she never lets me forget it.”
“But they were never together,” Leah said.
“No, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t love him. Maybe she would have married him and decided he wasn’t good enough, but she wanted what she couldn’t have. She blamed your mother for taking him away. And the rest of us have all paid for it.”
“You’re not innocent in this, Gerald.”
“No, I suppose I’m not.”
“Leah, dear, your order is ready.”
“Be right there,” Leah said.
She didn't move.
"I don't trust you," she said.
"I don't blame you." Gerald stepped back. "But I'm telling you the truth."
He left before she could respond. She gathered her bread and walked out into the cold morning, her mind spinning.
On the walk back, she spotted Edith coming out of the post office. The older woman saw her and waved.
"Leah! Just the person I wanted to see."
"Hi, Edith."
Edith fell into step beside her. "Heard you've been having trouble with Madeline's solicitor."
Of course she had. It was a small village. Everyone knew everything.
"It's being handled," Leah said carefully.
"I'm sure it is." Edith adjusted her scarf against the wind. "But if you're looking for proof that your parents' marriage was properly registered, you might try the church records in Cheltenham."
Leah stopped walking. "What?"
"The parish records. St. Mary's, I think it was." Edith looked at her directly. "Your father was old-fashioned. Even after a Vegas ceremony, he would have wanted it blessed and registered locally. It's the kind of thing he would have done. I'm almost certain of it."
"How do you know that?"
"I don't know it. But I knew your father. And I knew your grandmother. She believed in following the rules. I would imagine your father would want to appease her after what he’d done. And I remember he went to Cheltenham a few times that first year your mother was here.” She shrugged.
"Could be nothing. Could be something. Worth a look, anyway. "
Leah felt something like hope blossom. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet. I could be wrong." Edith patted her arm. "But I don't think I am."
She continued toward the green, leaving Leah standing on the pavement with her bread and a lead she hadn't had five minutes ago.
She went straight to Rowan's cottage.
He answered with a dish towel in his hands. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong. I need you to drive me to Cheltenham. Please."
"When?"
"Now."
He looked at her for a long moment, then nodded. "Let me get my keys."
They were in the truck five minutes later, pulling out onto the road that led away from the village. Leah told him what Gerald had said, then what Edith had told her. He listened without interrupting, nodding along.
"Do you believe Gerald?" he asked when she finished.
"I don't know." She looked out at the fields sliding past. "But it makes sense.
Madeline's not stupid. A court case would be public.
People would talk. She'd have to justify why she's trying to take a house away from a woman whose family owned it for generations.
It's not a good look. And again, what’s she going to do with it? She looks greedy."
"She is greedy.”
“But she pretends to be a saint,” Leah spat. “I almost wish she would take me to court so I could expose her.”
He chuckled. “I think there would be plenty of people who’d like to see that.”
"What if it's there?" Leah asked quietly. "What if the registration is there and this whole thing just... ends?"
"Then it ends."
"And if it's not?"
He didn't answer right away. "Then we figure out what comes next."
The road curved through a stand of bare trees, and beyond them, the town began to appear. Stone buildings and church spires rose out of the dreary fall landscape. Rowan took the turn toward the town center, and Leah felt her pulse kick up.
This was it. One way or another, they were about to find out whether her father had done what Edith thought he'd done. Had a young man in love, four decades earlier, taken his American bride to a parish office and made sure their marriage was properly registered in the country he called home?
Rowan found parking near the church. St. Mary's sat at the top of a slight hill, with old stone, stained glass, and a cemetery that looked like it predated most of the buildings around it.
They walked up the path together. Rowan took her hand.
Leah felt the weight of the moment settling over her shoulders.
The parish office sat off to the side, a small addition that looked newer than the rest of the building.
Rowan pushed the door open and gestured for Leah to go in.