28. Frannie
“Evan,it says here Cornelia is supposed to marry Mitchell Stewart in two weeks. She”s heartbroken because she”s still in love with Logan.” I reached over and slid my fingers into Evan’s hair.
“When are you going to be done with that diary?” he asked. “I”m going through Frannie withdrawal while you finish it.”
I let out a soft laugh. “There are only a couple dozen more entries.”
“And then I”ll get my girlfriend back?”
“I”m right here, silly.” I continue to trail my fingers through his hair, loving how it felt to have him snuggled up against me while I read. Yesterday, we”d stopped by the historical society when he finally let me out of bed. Mrs. McCall, who”d been running the small organization for the past thirty years, hadn”t had any information to share about Cornelia Bishop, but said she would reach out to the state historical society and also search for any other related records.
I was eager to hear back from her. I”d gotten caught up in the love triangle between Cornelia Bishop, Mitchell Stewart, and Logan Scott. Charice suggested I skip ahead to the end to satisfy my curiosity, but I couldn”t bring myself to do it. She was also one of those people who read the last page of a book before she started.
“Have you come across anything good?” Evan asked.
I flipped a page back and ran my finger across the curvy lines of script. “She says here that the surveyor is coming out to mark the land. I guess she and Mitchell are being gifted a section where they can build their own home. Part of it”s supposed to come from the Bishop side and part of it from the Stewarts.”
“And the only reason they”re getting married is to strengthen the ties between the families, huh?” Evan propped himself up on one elbow and leaned closer. “I know the agreement to form the distillery was signed in September of that year. Doesn”t that seem suspect? That the only thing tying our families together was the wedding between Cornelia and Mitchell?”
“I”m sure companies have been built on less. What”s the official history about how the distillery started?” I”d heard it so many times I probably should have been able to recite it by heart, but I wanted to hear it from Evan. His take might include something that would give us a clue about the distillery’s beginning.
“The three families joined together. Bishops, Stewarts, and Devines. Does she say anything about the Devine family?”
“Not really, except she mentioned they attended church together. I think their land butted up against both the Bishop’s and the Stewart’s. I wonder if the spring ran across their property at all.” Diving into the history of Evan’s family made me more and more curious about how the distillery got its start. Everyone in town assumed it happened, just like the pictures on the wall at the distillery showed. The Bishops, Stewarts, and Devines were friends who lived on the same mountain and joined together to do the only thing they knew how—make whiskey. Reading Cornelia”s diary felt like uncovering a new side—a darker side—to the story that had always been public.
“Are you going to stay up and finish that tonight?” He flung an arm over my belly.
“I”d like to. That way you can turn it over to Cole tomorrow. I know he”s been anxious to get his hands on this.” Thankfully, Evan knew how much it meant to me to get to the end of Cornelia”s story, or at least the end of the diary. He could have turned it over to Cole weeks ago.
“Don”t stay up too late. You”ve got to be up early for the race on Saturday.”
“About the race,” I started. I still hadn”t told Evan about Andrew Stewart”s heroic fundraising efforts. “Are you sure you”re ready for that long of an event?”
Evan rolled onto his back and rested his forearm across his eyes. “Do you trust me?”
“What kind of ridiculous question is that?” I”d always trusted him. He was probably the only person I trusted completely besides my dad.
“I”ll take that as a yes.” He shifted his arm and looked up at me. “I promise you, Frannie, I”m fine. In fact, I”m probably in better shape than I was when I went into the Army. With all the strength training I”ve been doing and practice runs, you”ve got nothing to worry about.”
Even though he kept reassuring me, I couldn”t help but worry. I did trust Evan, but he had a tendency to push himself hard—harder than any man should. Especially after the recent comments from his dad. I didn”t want him to feel like he had to go above and beyond to prove himself.
“If you”re sure.” I studied him, looking for signs that he might be stretching the truth, that he might not be quite as ready as he wanted me to believe.
He reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze. “I promise. Everything”s going to be okay.”
“Since you”re so hellbent on punishing your body and pushing through this race, you should probably hear this from me.”
“What?” His brows drew together, and a deep line stretched across his forehead.
I hesitated, wishing there was an easier way to break the news.
“What do you need to tell me, moon pie?”
“Andrew Stewart came through with some corporate donations. When I talked to Charice today, she told me his total is just over twenty grand right now.” I braced myself, waiting for Evan’s inevitable disappointment.
He shook his head. “That guy is like a superhero. Is there anything he can”t do?”
“You”re not feeling threatened, are you?” I asked.
“Not really, but you have to admit it”s not fair for one person to be so good at everything.” He looked like a little boy whose ice cream cone had just tumbled onto the sidewalk. I set the diary aside and pulled his head over to rest on my chest.
“I can name one thing you can do that he can’t.”
“What”s that?” Evan asked.
I scooted down until we were lying side by side. “It might be more fun if I showed you.”
Evan’s lips tilted up at the corners, into a knowing smile. “I didn”t have a chance to fit in my cardio today.”
“Then I expect at least a half hour of foreplay,” I said, already pulling his mouth toward mine.
After I”d provenmy point and Evan softly snored next to me, I pulled out the diary again. Reading about Cornelia’s life over one hundred years ago felt more real to me than stories I”d been watching on the local news. I was completely invested in finding out what happened to her, especially since no one had found any mention of her beyond the bare minimum in any historical documents.
As the clock ticked closer and closer to midnight, I scanned the pages, so caught up in the drama between the Bishops and the Stewarts that I lost all track of time. I finally reached the last entry. It was difficult to read due to the smudged ink. It almost looked like the pages were water-stained, although it could have been tears.
“Evan, you”ve got to wake up.” I gently shook him, hoping he wasn”t in a deep sleep.
He cracked an eyelid and squinted up at me. “What time is it?”
“Just after one.”
“In the morning?” His voice was edged with sleepiness. “Why are you still awake? Is everything okay?”
I wiped the tears away from my cheek. “No, everything is not okay. Or maybe it is. I don”t know. I”ve reached the end of the diary, but I still have so many questions.”
“Baby, you”re letting it get to you. Why don”t you try to get some sleep and we can talk about it in the morning?”
“They called off the wedding. Turns out the surveyor said the stream didn”t touch the Stewart”s land, so the Bishops called the whole wedding off. Only now I don”t know what happened to Cornelia.” I held out the diary and flipped through the empty pages. “There aren”t any more entries. What do you think that means?”
Evan didn”t say anything for a few seconds. I wasn”t sure if he was thinking or if he”d fallen back asleep. Either way, the silence between us only added to my irritation. “Did you hear me? The last entry says she was going to find Logan. But the Stewarts paid him to leave town. Where do you think she went? Do you think she found him and that”s why there”s no record of her?”
“Aw, baby, it”s one o’clock in the morning. My brain isn”t with it enough to think at all. Do you want me to go put on a pot of coffee?”
“No. Just hold me.”
“That I can do.” Evan spooned around me and pulled me into his chest.
It”s not like I could do anything to help Cornelia now. Her fate had been sealed over a century ago. Still, not knowing what happened to her felt like mourning the loss of a friend. I turned off the light and snuggled into Evans’s arms. Pete the Dog jumped up onto the bed and turned in a few circles before finally flopping into a heap by our feet.
I closed my eyes but opened them again when images of Cornelia flashed through my mind. Except for one photo Cole had found in his dad”s filing cabinet, I didn”t even have an idea of what she looked like. Unable to fall asleep, I vowed to myself and to her that I would find out what happened to her. Someone had to know something.
Hopefully the historical society would be able to come through. Having made that promise, my eyes got heavy, and I slowly drifted off to sleep.