Chapter 1
Chapter One
There’s a point between sleep and awareness that I love to cling to. It comes with a sense of peace and comfort. I’m currently clinging to that space, but not in a fun way.
My professor’s monotone voice makes the back of my eyelids look more appealing by the second. Half the lecture hall is already asleep, and I can’t blame them.
It’s not that I hate history—I love it. I genuinely love how I can lose myself within the pages of a book, living the past, present or future through someone else’s eyes for even just a moment. That’s why I’m a library science major, why I dream of working in an archive someday.
But this professor? He could make the dictionary sound exciting compared to how he drones.
“Psst.”
My head swivels to the left, my pink hair almost smacking me in the face with the force of it. There’s a nearly silent chuckle, and then I register the dreamy golden brown eyes of Leo Anderson, goalkeeper for the Bishop University men’s football team.
“What?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even.
“You got a pen?” He smirks, a brow raised, and I can’t help the flutter that ravages my stomach.
“We’ve been in class for almost an hour,” I whisper.
He shrugs. “The man’s been reading straight from the text. I haven’t needed to take notes until now.”
I roll my eyes but dig through my backpack for an extra pen anyway. When I find one, I twirl it through my fingers before handing it to him. His fingers graze mine for a second and I swear the air in my lungs freezes.
“Thanks, uh—”
“Beck…Beck Harper,” I say with a small smile.
His eyes rake over me for a second then slide back to my face as he extends his hand. I take it. “Leo Anderson. It’s nice to meet you Beck.” He pauses. “Beck, is that short for something?”
I bite my lip, trying to be cool. “Rebecca, but no one calls me that. I’m just Beck.”
He nods. “Good to know, Just Beck.” His breath ghosts my cheek when he leans in and I shiver internally.
Here’s the thing about Leo. As a jock at our college, and what we’d call a hot commodity.
The women love him. The men want to be him.
He is the big man on campus. Unfortunately for me, I’ve fallen into his trap ever since we crossed paths my junior year of undergrad.
It’s hard not to notice Leo. And this may be the first time he’s actually noticed me.
I open my mouth to say something else to Leo when the professor finally says something useful.
“For your final project, you’ll present on a piece of local history—something unsolved, mysterious, worth digging into. Your peers will grade your presentations. Originality is key.”
Finally. Something interesting.
He drones on about the project, and after what feels like an eternity, he stops.
I can practically feel the sigh of relief from the class the moment he releases us.
Melting into my desk, I take a breath before tucking my notebook into my backpack and rushing from the room.
Leo passes me, waving awkwardly. “See you later, Just Beck.”
I hide my blush and rush off in the opposite direction right toward my favorite place on campus—the library.
The scent of old paper and lemon polish clings to the air as I balance my laptop and notebook to the study table.
The looming finals week has the library buzzing with stress, but tucked away in the archives wing, it’s blissfully quiet.
Just me, a stack of books, and the kind of silence that allows me to breathe.
That is, until Liz, my one real friend on campus, plops into the chair across from me.
“Please tell me you’ve picked a topic for Dr. Langley’s history project,” she says, eyes wide like she’s begging me to say yes so she won’t feel behind.
I grimace, twirling my pen. “I was thinking about researching something boring. Maybe a land dispute or silly ghost story. People love their paranormal stories around here. It’s easy, unsolvable, and I’m pretty sure I can make something up that seems real enough.”
Liz wrinkles her nose. “Ew, Beck. You’re studying to be a librarian, not a ghost hunter. Do better, babe. You need an actual story.”
“I don’t exactly have time to find a story, Liz. I’m drowning in my studies already. Besides, it’s not like this town has anything interesting happening anyway.”
Liz eyes me then leans in like she’s about to share state secrets. “What about the Bishops?”
I blink. “The wealthy Bishop family? The ones who owned Bishop Manor before it was sold?”
She nods, her dark curls bouncing. “Mhm. Everyone in town knows about the twins, Eleanor and Clara, but apparently they had a brother named Oliver. The twins disappeared but so did he. And for some reason no one talks about him. It’s a little weird don’t you think?”
I straighten in my chair, and Liz smirks like she’s realized she’s got me. “They have a brother?”
“Some say he ran away, others say he was taken. There are rumors that Eleanor killed Clara to avoid some arranged marriage, but the records don’t add up. There are no bodies, no official closures. How do three Bishop family members just walk into our town history and never walk out?”
I feel a thrill spark in my chest. This…this is something. It’s definitely better than some silly ghost story. It’s exactly the kind of puzzle that Dr. Langley would love to read about, maybe even consider A worthy material if I can swing it. Dang Liz for knowing me so well.
“Maybe it’s just gossip, or a story they tell over a campfire to keep kids up at night.”
Liz shrugs. “But maybe it’s not. There’s enough information there for you to dig through the archives for something more to the story.” She smiles at me mischievously. “Plus, I know you love a good mystery.”
I roll my eyes. She’s right though. I’m a sucker for a good mystery.
“Why are you telling me this? Don’t you want to research this for your own project?”
She squints at me, and I laugh. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” she says seriously.
“Fine, fine.”
Liz’s phone buzzes, and she looks between it and me for a second. “Anyway, I gotta run, but I think you should look into it. If anyone can figure it out, it’s you. Thank me later, babe.” She winks before grabbing her bag and leaving me to my thoughts.
My mind is made up. There’s no scenario where I don’t research this story now.
Liz was right. I love a good mystery, but something about this has been nagging at me.
Why would Oliver’s presence be practically unwritten?
The Bishops ran this town, built it from the ground up.
There are displays everywhere and various museums dedicated to the things they did for Hamilton, Tennessee.
Who is Oliver Bishop? And what happened to the twins? Gah! I can already feel this captivating all of my attention.
I walk to the librarian's station and place my arms down on the desk as I wait for one of them to notice me.
The older librarian stacks a final pile of books on the counter, dust dancing in the light around her.
Her eyes catch mine, making me pause. Her smile is warm, but her eyes… she looks at me like she knows me.
“How can I help you?” she asks, settling into her chair.
I lean forward, pressing my palms into the cool wood of the desk. “Do you have any books about the Bishop family? I’m researching for Dr. Langley’s class.”
The woman’s brows arch just slightly before her fingers tap across her keyboard, the glow reflecting in her glasses. “The Bishops,” she repeats softly, like she was testing the name on her tongue. After a moment she nods. “We have a few. I’ll lead you.”
I follow her as she winds though the labyrinth of tall shelves, plucking books here and there with practiced ease. When we walk back to the desk, she sets the stack down and slides it toward me.
“Here,” she says. “These will get you started.”
I murmur my thanks already itching to crack one of the books open. Reaching for the stack, I realize that the woman has yet to release them, her fingers resting lightly on the worn spines and her gaze fixed on me with unsettling intensity.
“Be careful, darling.” Her voice drops lower, like it was meant only for me to hear. “The Bishop records are odd little things. Sometimes you read them, and sometimes,”—Her lips curve into something between a smile and a frown—“sometimes they read you.”
I blink. What the heck is that supposed to mean? “I’m sorry, what?”
Her hands slide away from the books, but her eyes remain fixed on me.
“It’s best not to stare too long at the faces in those old photographs.
” She pauses for a second, looking away almost wistfully.
“The Bishops have always been a family out of step with time. Sometimes I think they’re still waiting for someone to turn the right page. ”
A shiver races down my spine, and I force a laugh trying to shake it off. “Well, good thing I don’t scare easily.”
The librarian only smiles, folding her hands together. “We’ll see.”