Chapter 4
The screen door slammed behind her as Gwen walked outside, noting the rain clouds that threatened on the horizon.
The warmth of the day was still evident, though the sunshine had been replaced by overcast skies and an eerie pink glow over the landscape.
Hank had left an hour earlier, the remaining loaf of herb bread tucked in a brown bag for the trip.
Needing to get a handle on her own emotions, Gwen had tried to meditate, sitting on the yoga mat in the sunroom and ringing the brass bell in an attempt to focus her thoughts.
But the news of the day was her undoing, disrupting her natural rhythms, forcing her to leave her house to find the solace she craved.
The graveyard had been on the land since the seventeen hundreds, its early occupants unknown to Gwen except by their names, now barely visible on the weathered stones that marked them.
It had seemed only right that her husband be buried here, closest to the person who had loved him best. Gwen rarely visited the cemetery, believing that her husband was neither there nor gone, but a part of the greater universe that surrounded her every day.
She unlatched a wrought iron gate and walked into the cemetery, nodding to the two tallest grave markers as she did.
“Hello, Lucy, Caleb.” A small wooden bench sat beneath a tall maple tree, and Gwen sat on it, resting her arm along the back and turning to where she knew a small metal plaque was tucked deep in the overgrown grass. “David.”
Had he been brought to his eternal rest prematurely, by someone who meant to do him harm?
Gwen pictured what she could remember of the man in red from the ski resort, which was very little.
Had a childhood acquaintance killed her husband?
After her initial memory, Gwen quickly realized she couldn't be sure of anything.
She needed to know more about David and the witness protection program, information available only to the U.S. Marshal's Office.
Rowan had been so proud when Colin was accepted into the prestigious program. Even David had been excited. Her husband's reaction made more sense now that she knew his own family had been relocated.
“What should I do?” she asked into the air, which had begun to pick up speed in anticipation of the coming storm.
The answering silence was pronounced, and she felt tears wet her eyes, fresh grief for the man she could no longer talk to.
Mourning her husband’s death twelve years earlier had been the most difficult thing Gwen had ever done, and she didn't want to go back there, didn't want to feel what it was like to lose him all over again.
She had been a young bride, a seemingly younger widow. David had been seven years her senior. At thirty-six, Gwen had already experienced more of love and loss than some people see in seventy years.
Murdered. Was it possible? Could it be that she had been so close to evil, that it had reached into her life and taken her greatest love?
She wept harder, grief spilling out onto her cheeks as the wind carried away her cries.
When she was able, she wiped her face with the back of her hand, lifting her head to the swirling gray sky.
“David, you deserve to have your murderer put away and punished for what he did.” Her voice grew quiet.
“But I don't want to do this. Forgive me, but I don't want to do this. Please...” she begged, her voice trailing off as the first drops of rain began to fall on her bare arms.
Her head dropped to her chest as the rain picked up speed, falling in fat drops, cooling her heated skin. She allowed it to overtake her, soaking her shirt and shorts, small rivers trailing down her legs and onto her sandaled feet before disappearing into the earth.
She breathed in the tangy air and allowed her mind to empty of the fear, the wishing for something different. The sound of the rainfall filled her head as she lifted her face to the sky. Poised before the universe, Gwen asked for the guidance she would need to complete this journey.
The kind eyes of Colin Mitchell appeared in her mind, clear as a photograph, making her wince. She could see David's reaction when Rowan had shared the news, his eyes wide with wonder. A Deputy with the U.S. Marshal's Office. Can you believe that, Gwen?
Everything was clear.
Gwen sat in the rain, letting the droplets water her spirit like they were watering the earth around her. Time passed and the tempo of the rain began to slow. Gwen opened her eyes, noting the sun already peeking through a hole in the clouds.
She sat quietly. A robin landed on the bench next to her, its feathers lit by sunshine.
“Looks like I'm going to Cold Spring,” she said to the animal, which cocked its head to the side and looked at her. “The Hudson Valley in summer.” She had always loved that area, had missed it like she’d been born there, though she never expected to be going back.
Standing, she walked several steps to David's marker, kneeling in the wet grass and kissing her palm before pressing it to the raised metal letters. “Anything for you, my love.” She stood, mentally calculating the time it would take her to drive to the train station in Albany. “Anything at all.”
Gwen stepped off the train, her cork wedge sandal landing squarely on the concrete platform.
The sun shone in her eyes and she pulled her sunglasses down from their perch atop her head, unsticking one blond curl as she walked.
Her long sundress had three wide bands in the colors of frozen sherbet, its light fabric revealing her graceful neck before it draped snugly across her breasts.
Colin's home was a short walk from the station, nestled in a small clearing of trees across the tracks, but Gwen headed in the opposite direction. She sought out the waters of the Hudson River with a thirst in her soul that needing quenching.
A path emerged from the parking lot and she took it, a smile on her lips as she followed a curving route of stepping-stones over a rise, and the view before her opened to expose the deep greens of the dramatic river valley.
Sharply rolling hills rose along the opposite bank, their tree-covered surface lush and inviting.
Gwen's feet stilled and she closed her eyes, taking a great breath into her lungs as she soaked up the heady scents of water and earth that surrounded her.
It’s just as I remember.
She exhaled in a trailing breath, opening her eyes to a ghost, standing before her in her memory.
An impossibly young David stood in green shorts and a sun-kissed tan, beckoning her to follow.
His image faded as quickly as it had appeared, and Gwen began to move, her footfalls on the familiar path seeming to erase the time since her last visit to this enchanted place.
The Chapel Restoration came into view and she giggled in anticipation.
How many times had she been here? The first was for Verdi, of that she was sure. A new Italian tenor, whose name escaped her now, who went on to become quite famous. He had sung the lush aria with the muscular skill of a well-trained voice, bringing Gwen to joyful tears.
She had wandered off from Rowan's party, leaving David playing cards with his friends as she explored.
She'd been drawn first to the water, then to the music floating on the humid night air, calling her to sit and listen on the porch of the Chapel, its great round pillars framing doors left generously open to the summer night beyond.
Gwen climbed the stone steps now, flanked on either side by the Chapel's cobblestone foundation, remembering that first evening that had drawn her to this perfect sanctuary.
The Chapel had once been a Catholic Church, though its Greek Revival architecture looked more like a tiny Parthenon than any cathedral Gwen had ever seen.
Rowan had explained how it had been abandoned and brought back to life, now serving as an ecumenical chapel and performance center during the summer months.
She had always been able to feel God here, as if the universe had focused its energy on the small rectangular structure like a child collecting the sun's rays with a magnifying glass.
Gwen pulled at the door of the chapel, sharply disappointed to find it locked. Reaching up with her hand, she ran her fingers along the white painted surface, feeling the layers of paint and the texture of the wood beneath. How many layers since she'd been here last?
A guitarist playing Chopin.
A poetry reading, snuggled on a wooden pew with David.
“May I help you?”
Gwen jumped, turning to find a young pregnant woman in jeans and a t-shirt eying her strangely. “Oh, you gave me a start!” Gwen said, resting her hand on her chest as she began to laugh. “I was just thinking, 'If these walls could talk,' and then they did!”
The woman dropped her shoulders and took out a large key ring. “Sorry about that, I didn't mean to scare you.”
“It's okay. Are you going inside?”
“I am. I work here.” A mop and broom were tucked under her arm. “But the Chapel's closed to the public, except for scheduled events. There's a listing of programs online.”
Gwen nodded, stepping back. “I understand, of course. You can't let every crazy ninny who shows up on the porch inside for a look-see.” She smiled wide, staring at the girl, looking every bit the crazy and at least somewhat the ninny.
The girl tilted her head. “It used to be open all the time, but with the vandalism...”
“It's been vandalized?”
She nodded. “I have to do a graffiti check of the outside of the Chapel every week, along with the boulders on the bluff.”
The building was situated some twenty feet from the water, which dropped down fifteen feet in a small cliff. Gwen had been down there numerous times, and knew the spot the woman was referring to. “Oh my, in your condition those rocks could be treacherous. Let me help you.”
The woman’s eyes lit momentarily before she shrugged off the suggestion. “That's all right, I can do it.”
“Please, I insist,” said Gwen, giving the girl's upper arm a light squeeze before turning on her heel.
“I'll go check now, you just get started inside and I'll be right back to let you know if I found anything.” Gwen strode to the shore and made her way down the cliff to the beach. Covered in small rocks and gravel, the area was clean except for a small collection of beer bottles, which she took with her back to the lawn and deposited next to the steps. Vandals were one thing, but Gwen could understand the desire to congregate at such a glorious spot and share a beer with friends. Hadn’t she done as much with David and Rowan?
She walked back to the door of the Chapel, peeking in and seeing the girl tuck a strand of wayward hair behind her ear as she worked to polish the pews.
What must it be like to be pregnant, to feel a life growing inside your womb?
At one time in her life, Gwen thought motherhood would be a given for her, but she was no longer quite so certain.
“All I found were some empty beverage containers. I put them on the steps.”
“Thank you.” She put one hand on her hip and bit her lip. “Do you want to come in?”
“I do,” said Gwen dramatically, “but I don't want to get you in trouble.” She winked.
“It's all right, you can come in. I'm Crystal,” she said, extending her hand.
Gwen shook it, taking in the tired look on the beautiful young woman's face. She couldn't be more than twenty and clearly becoming uncomfortable in her pregnancy. “I'm Gwen. Congratulations on the little one.”
“Thanks,” Crystal said, her face brightening as she raised a hand to her protruding belly. “Can you believe I've got another month left? I don't think I'm going to make it.”
“How exciting!” Gwen walked around the edge of the space, her hand trailing along the pews as memories from her youth came flooding through her mind.
“Me and Danny,” said Crystal, “are getting married in the Chapel this fall.”
“Oh, how lovely!” Gwen sighed, imaging the young Crystal as a bride. “I've always loved it here. You're a very lucky lady to be beginning a marriage within such hallowed walls.”
“You've been here before?”
“Many times, years ago,” she said, waving her hands. “Before my husband and I were married, we used to come up from the city to visit a friend right across the tracks.”
Crystal's brow furrowed. “Who?”
“Rowan Mitchell.”
“I know Rowan. His grandmother was the school librarian at the high school when I was there. She was a nice lady. Do you know her, too?”
Gwen shook her head. “She was never home when I was here. I understand she was quite the world traveler.”
Crystal nodded. “She used to bring souvenirs into school, to show students from her trips.”
“Indeed, the house was filled with them.”
“Are you going to see Rowan today?”
“No, his brother Colin.”
“Colin doesn't live here anymore. He married an Italian woman a few years ago and moved over there. They have a son, I think.”
Gwen's face fell, her eyes wide. A stinging sensation splashed into her abdomen. A son. Colin is married with a son.
She chastised herself for feeling betrayed.
What business was it of hers if Colin Mitchell got married?
She had never given the man any reason to believe she was interested in him.
She wasn’t interested in him. Heavens, she hadn’t even seen him in more than ten years.
A picture of Colin with his young bride and baby appeared in her mind, and she bristled at the thought.
“I'm sorry you didn’t know,” Crystal said quietly, “but Rowan must know where Colin is. Maybe he could put you in touch. Was it important?”
Honest to a fault, Gwen considered telling Crystal the truth, but she could imagine the young woman's response. Murder. Witness protection.
“I just wanted to catch up with an old friend.” She stood up, decided.
“I'm going to stop by and pay Rowan a visit while I'm in town.
He was a good friend to my husband, and I've let too many years go by without stopping to say hello. It was very nice speaking with you, Crystal. I appreciate you letting me inside.”
“You’re very welcome. The Chapel was meant for everyone, don’t you think?”
“I do, Crystal. I do.”