Chapter 5
LEAH
After the guys left, I had a quick shower and walked next door to knock on Fiona's door. No answer; she must be out somewhere. I thought about wandering over to Whitney's or Holly's, but I went the other way and headed into town instead.
Walking in no particular direction, I strolled past a couple of people carrying boxes into the town's new bookshop.
The shelves were already lined with books; the romance section, featuring a lot of indie authors, being the biggest. I couldn't wait until they opened.
I'd probably spend far too much time in there.
And too much money as well, but they were books after all.
I remembered the conversation with Josiah about having a library. Did he really? And if he did, how big was it? I decided it was probably huge and went on walking, trying to stay out of the way.
I found myself in front of the Snowdrop Café. Since it was coffee o'clock somewhere in the world, I ducked inside and slid into a seat.
"Leah!" Carly greeted me warmly. "You look fabulous today."
I glanced down at my jeans with the torn knee, and my dark purple t-shirt. "Um, thanks." I hadn't put much thought into what I was wearing. Then again, I usually didn't. On the occasions I did, I found myself wanting to paint. As if somehow the universe preferred me messy.
"What can I get you?" Carly asked.
"I'd love a cup of coffee," I said. "But I don't suppose you have time for a couple of questions?"
"Since it's quiet in here, I think I can make time," she said. "Let me get us both a coffee." She hurried away, returning a couple of minutes later with a cup in each hand. She slid into the chair opposite me and pushed one over, cupping her hands around the other one.
"What's on your mind?" she asked. She cocked her head, looking genuinely interested.
I saw no reason to beat about the bush. "Josiah Lachance."
Carly nodded slowly. "Ah. Are you and he…"
"No," I said quickly. "We're— I'm not sure what we are. Friends, maybe?" I exhaled slowly out my nose. "I think he needs some."
"Friends? Yes, I'd say you're right. I always try to give him a few minutes when he's in town, but he rarely drops in here." She sipped her coffee.
"Do you remember that day?" I didn't need to elaborate. We both knew what I was referring to. If Carly lived here at the time, she would have been in her early thirties.
"I do." She brushed a handful of curls off the side of her face.
"I mean, as much as I could since I was down here in town.
I was working at one of the hotels at the time.
Cleaning rooms and making beds. I remember seeing a couple of police cars roll into town.
Then everyone was saying Coral was gone. "
"They searched for her?" I asked. Hadn't the guys told me that when they explained why they hated Josiah so much?
Carly crinkled her brow. "I presume so. The police said they had the matter under control. They wouldn't let any of us up there. I never thought to question why."
"How long after that was it before Gavin Clarke moved down into town?" I took a sip of my own coffee and tried to play it cool.
"Almost right away," Carly said. "Someone went up there, I think it was Jacob Ferguson. Said Gavin was ranting about losing his baby. He was beside himself. Said he trusted the wrong person. Then she was gone. Jacob brought him to town and they cleaned up the cottage for him."
"Gavin said he trusted Josiah and he shouldn't have?" That felt like a stab right to my own heart.
"I suppose that was what he meant, but I only heard it second or third hand," Carly said. "Gavin didn't talk about it after that. It's like he blocked it from his mind. Can't say I blame him. If she was my kid…" Carly sniffed.
"Right," I said softly. "Why does no one believe Josiah is telling the truth? What if he was?"
"I saw Coral with her father a few times," Carly said softly. "She was a sweetheart. I don't want to think about what might have happened if Josiah was telling the truth."
"What if things weren't so bad for her?" I asked. "She might have had a happy childhood."
Carly looked doubtful. "I'd wish that for her, but… What's with all the questions, anyway? You're not thinking of writing a book about her, are you?" She wrinkled her nose as though she found the idea distasteful.
"No," I said with a short laugh. "I guess I'm just trying to get my head around a few things."
So many things. Feeling as though her bedroom was familiar was one thing, but putting everything else together was another.
If the police searched for her, why was Josiah still so convinced she was taken?
I supposed it was possible he was suffering from some kind of mental illness that messed with his memories.
The reality might have been so traumatic he blocked it out, replacing it with something easier to take.
I might be suffering from the same thing.
Imagining myself as her, growing up with people who loved her, not a family who were indifferent most of the time.
I considered opening a gallery in town, but maybe what we really need was a good therapist. Would Josiah see them if they set up practice here?
Maybe if he was dragged, kicking and screaming.
Chances were, that was what it would take.
"It was a shocking thing to happen," Carly agreed. "Everyone kept a closer eye on all the kids after that. Well, as much as anyone could with some of them being wild." She laughed.
"I think I can guess who you're referring to." I smiled. Connor and Riley would have gone on doing the same crazy things, regardless. "Can I ask one more question?"
She flapped a hand at me. "Go ahead."
"Josiah's parents. They used to work at the lodge?" I asked.
"That's right," Carly said. "Franco and—"
"Tatiana," I said without thinking.
Carly squinted at me. "Yes, Tatiana. How did you know?"
I placed my coffee cup down on the table. "I don't know, I must have heard it somewhere. What did they think about all of this? They must have been concerned about their son."
"Honestly, they always kept to themselves," Carly said after a moment's thought. "They were busy working. She'd come into town once in a while, but never said much."
"So you don't know if she believed Josiah or not?" I asked. If a mother couldn't believe her own son, then who would? Although, if it was my mother, she'd probably agree with the town and lose no sleep over it. Maybe I wasn't giving her much credit, but that was how I felt.
"No idea," Carly admitted. "If I recall someone said they asked her once and she changed the subject. We can be a nosy bunch, but we also know when to keep our noses out of other people's business. Some of the time." She raised her eyebrows and smiled.
"It would be a difficult subject to talk about, I suppose," I said.
"Absolutely," Carly agreed. "I can say this, though.
Tatiana Lachance adores her son. So does Franco.
It wouldn't surprise me if they believed him, but said nothing because they knew no one would listen.
" She twisted her mouth to the side in frustration.
She loved the town, but saw its flaws as well.
"I hope they did," I said sincerely. "He seems lonely up there." He'd be the last one to admit that, but in those few moments where we almost got along with each other, he seemed to enjoy the connection. He might not even be aware of how much he needed it.
"If I didn't know better, I'd think you have a thing for him," she teased.
I picked my cup back up, inhaling the delicious smell. "Maybe I do."
"Someone should," she said. "But be careful.
This town can be…very small sometimes." She swivelled her eyes back and forth as if we might have people spying on us right here in the middle of the café.
Apart from us, only two other people were here, sitting by the wall in quiet conversation.
They hadn't taken their eyes off each other since I arrived. No, they weren't watching us.
"I've noticed that," I said, with no judgement.
For the most part, the town welcomed me with open arms. They included me in just about every aspect of life here.
In return, everyone knew everyone's business, including mine.
Most of the time, that wasn't a bad thing.
I wasn't doing anything scandalous after all.
Unless they'd be scandalised by my relationship with Riley and Connor. If they were, that was their problem.
"I should get back to work." Carly downed the last of her coffee, patted the tabletop and stood.
"Thank you for taking the time to talk to me," I said. "I appreciate it."
"Any time," she said with a smile. "I heard a rumour you might be opening a gallery in town. I look forward to it."
I assumed Louisa told her. The mayor seemed to like the idea, but that's all it was for now.
An idea. I needed more art and money before I could even consider renting space and fitting it out to accommodate all the work I wanted to put on display.
Mine and other's. I wanted to put Aurora Hollow on the art scene map.
I wanted the town to be a place where people could make art as well as buy it.
We were surrounded by so much inspiration here, it was perfect.
I meant it when I told Josiah the Clarke house would make a perfect retreat and gallery.
It really would. Quiet and picturesque. I could sit up there for an entire year and never get tired of drawing and painting the landscape.
Not to mention looking around for the perfect sticks and logs to turn into sculptures.
That was a habit that wouldn't leave, even if I wanted it to.
An artist's mind was difficult to quiet.
Impossible to silence. We were always thinking about creating the next piece.
"If I do, I'll invite you to the grand opening," I assured her.
"Wild horses couldn't keep me away." Smiling, she hurried away into the kitchen, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Those were tumultuous. If there was a possibility I was Coral Clarke, then Gavin was my father.
If he was, then what did that mean? My mother told me my father left when I was little.
Had she lied to me about that? Was she even my mother?
If she lied about that, then what else had she lied about? Was anything in my life real?
I felt like my whole existence was tipped upside down. Nothing made sense anymore. If she wasn't my mother, then who was she? One thing I knew for sure, she'd never done anything inappropriate to me. Neither had my stepfather. Or anyone else, that I could remember. They were disinterested.
I rubbed my temples slowly. I wasn't sure where I'd even start to get answers to all of my questions. Of those, I had a ton. They seemed to reproduce by the moment. If one was answered, two or three more popped up.
Including one in particular. Did I really want to know the truth? What good would it do now?
It would clear Josiah's name for one, but would he care? If it was me, I would, but he seemed to enjoy playing the anti-hero. He might find some other reason for people to dislike and reject him.
The bell over the door tingled as someone stepped inside.
I looked up and my mouth dropped open.
"Brooks?"