Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
If her goal in coming here was to say goodbye to the house so she could gain closure and move on with her life, then why couldn’t she make herself go inside?
Cold wind whipped around her, carrying salt, sea spray, and a hint of snow.
“Do you smell that?” Emma turned to look at Luke. “I think it’s going to snow.”
Luke pressed his palms together and looked toward the sky. “Please, God, let it be so.”
“You guys really need some, don’t you?”
He nodded, weariness creasing the lines around his eyes. “A few feet. Six to twelve, really, if I’m being honest. One more wintery blast to bring in some customers that will get us through until May.”
She smiled. “Maybe this is the beginning of a blizzard.”
“Yikes.” He frowned. “Let’s get back to safety before we wish that upon ourselves, all right?”
“Fair enough.”
She turned to face the house. It loomed ahead, looking just as battered by time and the relentless Alaskan elements as the last time they’d been out here three days ago.
Sea lions still barked incessantly from the rocky outcropping, their presence a reminder of how the wildlife had slowly reclaimed the coast.
She glanced at Luke, who stood patiently beside her, his eyes fixed on the house.
“Are you sure about this?” He clutched the straps of the pack on his shoulders. “I can imagine it’s tough dealing with the onslaught of memories.”
She sighed, her breath visible in the cold air. “I have to get in there. I can’t just let it go without saying goodbye. Besides, I can’t list it in its current condition.”
“Then let’s get to it,” Luke said.
She studied him. Part of her was surprised he hadn’t tried persuading her not to sell it. Did coming out here dredge up memories of the past for him too?
Engaged to Nathan, remember?
She batted the reminder away. Her phone hummed with a text. She left the device in her pocket, ignoring it.
Together, they approached the back of the house.
Thankfully, the sea lions weren’t paying them any attention.
Probably too busy preening, barking, and challenging each other over territory.
Weeds and overgrown bushes flanked the back entrance.
The door’s six windowpanes were miraculously all still intact.
The paint had chipped away from what had once been a vibrant shade of sea-glass green, her mother’s favorite.
Luke pulled the key from his pocket. “I still can’t believe Hank found this.”
“Yeah, he seems to know a lot about this place.”
“Hank’s a humble guy, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he helped with the construction.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
Luke nodded.
“When he’s feeling better, I’d like to ask him a few questions.” Emma ran her hand along the siding beside the door. “Whoever built this knew what they were doing. I can’t believe this place survived a tidal wave.”
“That makes two of us.”
Luke jammed the key into the lock and jiggled the knob until it clicked. He gently pushed the door open, a creaking sound echoing in the stillness. A musty smell wafted out—although it was nothing compared to the stench the sea lions had created. He motioned for her to go first.
“After you.”
She hesitated, her heart pounding. Then she took a deep breath and stepped inside.
The pungent odor of mildew greeted her. The once-bright living room was dim, probably due to the grime-covered windows and the boards protecting at least two.
What was left of the furniture lay covered in dust, and a stack of outdated hunting and fishing magazines, along with a water-damaged paperback, sat on the filthy coffee table. Her throat tightened.
“It’s mostly empty,” she whispered, taking in the dried mud clinging to the hardwood floors.
“The tidal wave likely ruined whatever was left,” Luke said as he came in behind her and closed the door. “Can’t beat that view though.”
“True. My mom made sure we could see the water and mountains as much as possible.” She walked farther into the room, pausing to rest her hand on the back of the upholstered sofa. “We were so happy here, Luke.”
Luke nodded, tenderness in his gaze. He tucked his hands into his jacket pockets. “You had some good times here, didn’t you?”
She nodded. “My dad told the best stories. My uncle too. I miss them.”
“I wish I’d spent more time with your uncle Seth,” Luke said. “He didn’t come into town often.”
“I didn’t see him much. He had a terrible speech impediment and stuttered a lot. Sometimes he could only sing to get the words out. He really loved being in the gold mine the most.”
Luke frowned. “Do you think your cousin Gavin might want the house?”
She shrugged. “Good question. My uncle had a cabin somewhere off the grid, but I’m not exactly sure where. And I’m still trying to get in touch with Gavin. I asked the radio station in Glennallen to send out a message. They said they would, but Gavin hasn’t called me back yet.”
“What happened to the gold mine?”
“I have no idea. My uncle never married Gavin’s mom. I don’t think we ever met her either.”
“He kept things top secret, huh?”
She nodded. The weight of memories hung in the air as she turned toward the cased opening dividing the living room from the back hallway.
A floorboard creaked, louder than the others. She froze.
Luke, a step behind, tensed. “You hear that?”
She nodded, scanning the room. “The house is protesting. Probably not fond of those sea lions either.”
“Understood. They’ve overstayed their welcome for sure.”
“Oh my goodness, look.” She pointed to the handwriting still legible on the cased opening. Her dad had measured her height year after year and marked it carefully with the date. The marks went all the way back to her second birthday and stopped just after she turned fifteen.
“Wow, that’s impressive,” Luke said. “I’m glad you can still see it.”
“He used permanent marker. Made my mom so mad.” She pulled out her phone and snapped a few photos of the lines and dates.
Her throat tightened, and she tamped down the emotion.
Part of her wanted to reach for Luke, to let him hold her.
Comfort her. But she couldn’t and she wouldn’t.
The tension between them was like a taut wire ready to snap.
“I don’t know exactly where to begin,” Luke said, breaking into her thoughts, “but let’s start with the kitchen.”
She nodded and led the way. Cabinet doors hung ajar, and the floor creaked beneath their feet. She opened the door to the pantry and dust billowed out, making her cough.
“Oh wow,” she said, laughing. She waved her hand through the air.
Luke pointed to the floor. “Watch your step. These boards look weak.”
Just as he said it, she stepped on a warped board and with a sudden crack, her foot plunged through.
“Emma!” Luke reached out, his hand clasping her elbow.
“Ow.” She sucked air through her teeth, then pulled her foot free. The shattered floorboard revealed a gaping, dark hole into the crawl space.
“Are you okay?” He pulled her against him, his arms solid and sure.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” She balanced on her right leg, then slowly rotated her left ankle in a circle.
“First your wrist and now your leg. Are you sure you’re all right?”
Emma nodded, still clinging to him.
“Can you put weight on it?”
She put her foot on the floor, grimacing at the dull throb radiating from her ankle. “It’s fine. A little sore.”
He pulled his phone from his pocket and shined the flashlight into the hole.
Emma let go of him. “What do you think is in there?”
“Let’s find out.”
She pulled out her phone again, ready to take more photos. “That’s a lot of mud.”
“Nothing compared to what people had to deal with in town.” He tested the board with his toes and then sank to his knees. “We’ve spent hours shoveling mud out of buildings and dealing with insurance claims from the flooding.”
Emma shook her head. “That sounds awful.”
“It’s frustrating for sure,” Luke said. “Especially for the people who might have to cut their losses and leave town because insurance won’t cover their claims.”
Before she could respond, he pulled a glove from his pocket, put it on, then scraped at the mud.
“What are you doing?”
“Your foot must’ve connected with something.” Grunting, he clawed at the mud with his hand. “Otherwise, you would have sunk up to your knee or hip, right?”
“Good point.” She leaned closer. “What do you think it is?”
“It’s some kind of metal box like they used to keep ammunition in back in the day.” He exposed the handle, then tugged, but it wouldn’t come free. Frowning, he sat back on his heels. “I wish I’d brought a shovel.”
“Maybe there’s something in the utility closet. Hang on.”
She went down the hall to the laundry room. The washer and dryer were gone. Weird. Too bad they didn’t have any electricity, because extra lighting would really help right now. But Hank had already warned them that somebody had swiped the generator.
She opened the closet where they used to keep the broom. Sure enough, a broom, a dustpan, and a few gardening tools still sat on the floor.
Perfect. She grabbed the spade and carried it back to Luke. “Not a shovel, but it might work.”
“Oh, awesome. Thanks.” He took it and dug and dug and dug, scraping away the dried, caked-on mud until he’d revealed a cube-shaped army-green box with old-fashioned buckles.
Emma’s pulse thundered in her ears. “Whoa. This is wild!”
Luke set the spade down, then crouched lower, reached in, and tugged with both hands. The box didn’t budge. He tugged again and it came loose, knocking him off balance. “Heavier than I thought,” he said, chest heaving.
She crouched beside him and ran her hand over the dented metal. The hinges looked rusted but both latches were intact.
Luke glanced at her. “Why don’t you open it? This house, this discovery—it’s yours.”