Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Present Day
It was mid-October when Francesca entered the hospital in Nantucket for surgery.
True to his word, Benjamin held her hand at her bedside and spoke sweetly to her before the anesthesiologist came in.
He kissed her palm and told her he’d see her on the other side of this.
A third chance at love? Francesca thought as Benjamin shaded to black before her, as the drugs took over and plunged her into darkness.
When she woke up post-surgery, Benjamin was there beside her again, his eyes filled with tears, but his firm hand over hers.
The surgeon, a woman named Bethany Sutton, came in shortly after that to tell Francesca that the surgery had gone exactly as they’d planned and that they would be in contact regarding her upcoming chemotherapy sessions.
“We’re going to beat this thing,” Bethany said, using the “we” in a way that so many Americans did.
But Francesca was thrilled to be back in the United States, back with her family, back on an island she’d called home so long ago.
Her life was big and long and complicated and wonderful.
A little while after she woke up, the rest of her family came in: Allegra and Lorelei, weeping and smiling and yelling at their mother for not telling them about her cancer; Nina and her children Will and Fiona, both of whom had made Francesca “get well soon” cards; Charlotte; Alexander and his three children, who looked frightened for her but said all the right things, as polite children always do.
Through it all, Benjamin sat beside her, holding her hand and smiling at their children.
Where is Jack? She wanted to ask all of them.
Why hasn’t someone gone out and found Jack yet?
Two days after her surgery, Francesca was cleared to go home.
Benjamin drove her back to the rental she shared with Allegra and Lorelei and set her up in the bedroom downstairs.
Allegra made a bunch of food that Francesca felt too sick to eat, which distressed Allegra a great deal.
They’d never seen their mother turn down a meal before, certainly not an Italian meal.
Francesca promised them she’d be better soon.
“It’ll be a long road,” she said. “But I’m not done living yet. ”
It was because of her children and her first husband that she pushed herself to keep going.
Benjamin was careful never to overstep, which was something Francesca appreciated.
But on the third day after she’d returned to the rental, she asked him to lie on the bed with her and talk to her for a little while.
“I want to hear a story,” she said. Her lips were cracked, and she needed water desperately.
He saw that and brought her water to her before lying on the bed as she’d told him to.
“I want to tell you a story about the mid-2000s,” he began tentatively, lacing his fingers through hers.
Often, he checked her expression for signs that he was overstepping.
She wanted to tell him that he couldn’t possibly overstep.
That her body felt safe when he was there.
This was a rarity in this life. She’d lived long enough to know.
“I’d been hiding from my life and from reality for many years at that point,” Benjamin went on.
“But I managed to get a fake passport. I had this idea that I would move somewhere like Thailand and never look back. But against my better judgment, I decided to go to Italy first. I thought maybe history could repeat itself. I thought maybe, against all odds, I could get you back.”
Francesca’s breath caught in her throat. “You didn’t,” she said.
“I did,” Benjamin said. “I still remembered exactly where your parents lived, so I went there first, hoping I’d be able to find you in the vicinity. I couldn’t have imagined that you were living right next door.”
Francesca felt heat flash across her neck. He found me, she thought, incredulous.
“I saw you from a distance at first,” Benjamin said.
“You were on horseback, riding across those gorgeous hills, through the pines. Your hair was whipping out behind you. You looked so strong and alive and free. You looked different from the way you did when we were raising kids, which, maybe, was obvious. I know that time was hard on you. I know you put up with a lot, especially when it came to me.” Benjamin blinked.
“But it looked like you’d survived something.
I took a step back, wondering what I was doing there and if you even wanted me there at all.
For the first time, I really considered what you wanted.
I hate myself for not thinking about that for so long.
“As I sat in my car, watching you ride, I realized another person on horseback was chasing you. He was vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t make sense of it at first. When you both stopped your horses, you leaned in together and kissed.
It was a beautiful picture. But it was then that I realized who it was.
Jefferson Albright! The man I hired all those years ago.
The man who took one look at you in 1978 and fell in love.
” Benjamin took a breath. “Not that I can blame him. That’s how it happened for me, too. ”
Francesca closed her eyes, imagining herself and Jefferson whipping through the hills, living out the remainder of their days together.
It was hard to believe that she’d ever looked so beautiful and free, especially when compared to now.
Her body was broken and bleeding. She’d had her breasts removed.
She was headed toward chemotherapy. So much time had passed.
“I drove as fast as I could back to Rome and flew away,” Benjamin said, laughing at himself. “I don’t know why I thought I could get you back. It took me a long time, but I realized that I was happy for you, that I was grateful that you’d found another story, one that had nothing to do with me.”
Francesca’s voice cracked. “Did you find another story?”
“A few,” Benjamin said tenderly. “Nothing is as good as ours.”
Francesca smiled and glanced at the black bag in the corner of her room. “Do you see that bag? There’s something in the side pocket, something you need to see.”
Benjamin’s smile melted off his face. “Divorce papers?” he guessed with a wry laugh. “You’d have every right.” He walked to the corner, dropped down, and unzipped the pocket from which he removed a purple folder. “This?”
“Yes,” Francesca said. “Come over here and open it. There’s something inside.”
Benjamin returned to her bed and removed a fragile and yellowed piece of paper, one that looked on the verge of crumbling to dust. Francesca couldn’t believe it had made it all the way back to Nantucket.
She watched as Benjamin studied what was drawn on the paper, watched as his face transformed from confusion to wonder. His eyes flickered toward hers.
“Is this what I think it is?” he asked her.
Francesca nodded and laughed, sending spasms of pain through her chest. She calmed but kept smiling. “It’s a treasure map,” she said. “X marks the spot, if we can get there.”
Benjamin turned the map around so she could look at it again: the tunnels and tunnels beneath the White Oak Lodge, the last-remaining proof that Jefferson’s great-grandfather had discovered treasure before his departure to England. Benjamin’s eyes glowed.
“You know?” he began. “I’ve never been that far into the tunnels.”
“I guess it’s about time you go,” Francesca said.
Benjamin cleared the distance between them and kissed her on the forehead. “My darling wife,” he said with a laugh. “This map is your discovery. It’s yours. I won’t go into the tunnel without you. We’ll wait till you’re healthy and ready again.”