Chapter 24
twenty-four
S omeone had mowed the yard recently.
The rich aroma of earth and grass stirred Noah’s senses as he stood before his grandfather’s headstone under the cloudy night sky. His shirt was plastered to his chest and his soaked pants scrubbed his legs. But he didn’t care. He shoved back his wet hair and dropped his duffel to the muddy grass beside a nearby grave.
This corner of the cemetery was fairly dark, but the scattered poles lining the paved road provided enough light for Noah to read the markings carved into Grandpa’s stone.
GILBERT RENE HEBERT
FATHER. GRANDFATHER. PUZZLE MASTER.
And then the quote from The Count of Monte Cristo that he had requested in his will.
HE WHO HAS FELT THE DEEPEST GRIEF IS BEST ABLE TO EXPERIENCE SUPREME HAPPINESS… LIVE, THEN, AND BE HAPPY.
“Well, I hope you’re happy—because you’ve really got me in a bind now.” Noah spoke to the cement block as steady rain continued to pour down his back. “The clock is ticking, and we’re stuck on this final clue. And on top of that, I’m on my own.”
Elisa’s face at the police station, full of regret, tugged at Noah. Maybe he should have heard her out, but he wasn’t mad at her. More like resigned. This is clearly how they—and their families—were meant to be.
“I guess I expected something else from her. Thought I had it, for a little while.” A regretful smile tugged at his lips. “You probably just threw Elisa into the mix to give me a fighting chance at figuring out these clues, didn’t you? But history tried to repeat itself.” His smile faded. “In a few ways.”
Images of his time with Elisa—from twelve years ago and from the past week—rushed together into a collage of sun-kissed, coconut-scented memories. For a moment, outside the police station, he’d considered her stricken expression and debated giving her another chance. He had no doubt she was sorry for her silence on the ball field. She’d obviously come to the police station to try to help, which said a lot.
But it didn’t change that he couldn’t trust her to be there. To put him before her family, when needed.
And the fact that he had needed her at all was more than a little unsettling. Both for the hunt…and for himself. It was best to cut it off now, before anyone got more attached or more hurt.
Heberts and Bergerons didn’t mix. How many more lives had to be destroyed for them to accept that?
Noah took a deep breath. “I guess it doesn’t matter anymore, anyway, does it? Dad—Russell—is going to ruin everything…as usual.” There wasn’t enough time to figure out the last clue before his dad paid off the inn and took over. He had no doubt Russell would be standing in front of the bank in the morning when they opened at nine.
His heart sank. “You know what the worst part is?” Noah slid to his knees in front of the grave marker. Cold pressed into his knees. “All of this was for nothing. I lost the hunt. I’ve lost the inn. And I lost Elisa—not that I ever really had her back.” He swallowed, eying the headstone as a downpour of emotions stronger than the storm washed over him. He choked over unshed tears, his heart racing. “I lost you.”
He sat silently for several moments, letting the tears fall and mix with the rain. Grandpa couldn’t hear him—or maybe he could. That was a question for Pastor Dubois. Still, the ball in his chest had eased a notch.
Noah wiped his face with his arm as reality weighed heavy on his shoulders. “I’m going to fail. You, the inn. All those memories. Everything you stood for and built. Dad’s going to run it into the ground, I can already tell.” He sniffed, shaking his head. “For the record, I’d much rather have you back than have the Blue Pirogue. Or money.”
Time passed—how much, he wasn’t sure. He sat there as the rain slowly subsided, until it was only a sprinkle misting the limbs of a nearby oak. All around him were stone names of former lives. Organized, tidy rows of heritage—for better or for worse.
Were any of them sons desperate to be enough? Fathers bent on betraying everyone they were supposed to love? Grandfathers who filled in the gaps left behind?
His gaze drifted back over Grandpa’s headstone. HEBERT . Noah might hate much of what that name represented, but it wasn’t totally tarnished—no matter what his mom, Sheriff Rubart, or anyone else in Magnolia Bay thought.
He wanted the type of legacy his grandfather left behind—the kind left by a man who invested in his hurting grandson and took him on adventures. A man who put his heart and soul into a thriving business for the community, despite rumors and naysayers. A man who went through a divorce, yet still wrote that he loved his wife in his Bible.
A man who never quit.
In the silence, the words of the hymn played once more in his thoughts.
Iwas sinking deep in sin
Far from the peaceful shore
Very deeply stained within
Sinking to rise no more
But the master of the sea
Heard my despairing cry
From the waters lifted me
Now safe am I
Earlier Noah had imagined those words being for his dad, but maybe they weren’t. Maybe they were for him.
He closed his eyes, the rain-scented breeze rustling his damp hair. Somewhere in the oak above, an owl hooted. And the song continued.
Love lifted me
When nothing else could help
Love lifted me
Love was stronger than blood. Stronger than family feuds. Stronger than revenge. Maybe that was why his grandfather put him and Elisa together—not because Noah wasn’t capable on his own, but because he was trying to mend fences. End the feud he’d been a part of his entire life.
Noah opened his eyes, his gaze once more roaming the letters on the headstone. He was a Hebert, yes—but he was loved. By his grandfather. By his friends. Maybe, to some degree, once upon a time, by Elisa.
But definitely by God.
And if he lived under that name—under the label Loved—maybe he could finally quit sinking.
The tears had subsided. So had the rain. The deepening darkness of the night felt less suffocating now, more soothing. It was time to go.
Noah drew a ragged breath as he pushed himself to his feet. “I sure wish I could finish this. See what you left behind for me.” He tilted his head. “But a wise woman once told me that just because you stop doing something doesn’t mean you’re a quitter. So I’m not going to think that way.”
He grabbed his bag and started to turn, but the quote on the headstone caught his eye.
HE WHO HAS FELT THE DEEPEST GRIEF IS BEST ABLE TO EXPERIENCE SUPREME HAPPINESS… LIVE, THEN, AND BE HAPPY.
Man, Grandpa loved that book. What was the other quote that had taken Noah years to fully understand? He racked his memory. Something about luck. No, misfortune. He spoke the words out loud. “‘ Misfortune is needed to plumb certain mysterious depths in the understanding of men; pressure is needed to explode the charge.’”
He’d certainly had the pressure lately. Noah smiled at the tombstone. “We’ll see if there’s an explosion, I guess.” He made a note to find Grandpa’s missing collector’s edition, so Noah could re-read it in his honor.
He started up the hill, bag slung over his shoulder. Quite the walk remained to get back to his truck at the ballpark, but he didn’t care. At least the storm had stopped.
Both outside and in.
Noah crested the hill to the road as more quotes Grandpa had read him from that book filled his mind.
“For all evils there are two remedies—time and silence.”
“Until the day when God will deign to reveal the future to man, all human wisdom is contained in these two words—wait and hope.”
Why did that sound familiar?
Suddenly he stopped, his shoes squeaking on the wet grass. He dug in his bag for his cell, then pulled up the photo of the clue he’d taken before the ballgame, his eyes devouring the words written on the card.
How quickly Time passes
On tiny wings of Silence
Oh how it Waits
And oh how it Hopes
Cloudy as a silver lining.
His breath caught and his heart raced. Elisa had thought there was significance to the capital letters, and she was right. But not because of an acrostic.
They were from The Count of Monte Cristo .
* * *
Elisa’s dad was sitting on her doorstep, a blue windbreaker zipped all the way up to his chin, an umbrella laying at his feet.
She turned off the ignition and groaned, briefly resting her head on the steering wheel as she mustered the energy to open her door. She couldn’t do this—not again. Not after she’d lost everything.
I’ll never be what you need.
Weren’t they a pair? If Noah felt he wasn’t enough, she was too much—even for him. After daring to believe he could be different.
She raised her head, squinting against the porch light shining on her rain-streaked windshield. Was her dad holding a plate of cookies?
Elisa climbed out of the car and took a hesitant step toward him, all her fight and fire left back at the police station. “Dad, I really can’t handle any more conflict tonight.” She just wanted to crawl into some dry clothes, get in bed, and not move until morning. Maybe the morning after that.
But she had to get up early for the breakfast rush. The Magnolia Blossom needed her—for however much longer. Her stomach twisted.
“I come in peace.” Dad awkwardly clambered to his feet as she approached, extending the plate of cookies. “Here. For you and Zoey.”
She silently took the plate as she fumbled for her house key, then did a double take at the pile of thin blond cookies nestled under plastic wrap. “Are these…?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Your mom’s tea cakes.”
“You baked?”
“I’m trying to make a gesture.”
Oh, boy. She pushed open the door. “Come on in.” She hollered for Zoey, but then realized her car hadn’t been out front. She was probably still enjoying post-game pizza with the others.
Had that only been a few hours ago?
Her father trailed after her as Elisa dropped her purse to the floor, set the cookies on the coffee table, and grabbed a blanket. “Have a seat.” She wrapped up and settled on a chair opposite the sofa—the same spot she took when she and Zoey had that big conversation just last week.
So much had changed, it made her dizzy.
Dad perched on the edge of the sofa cushion and picked up one of the navy throw pillows. “I owe you an apology.”
“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” The words came automatically, but upon further inspection, she realized she meant them. She could learn how to express herself and create a new dynamic without being disrespectful.
“No, this is on me. It’s a long time coming.” He flipped the pillow end over end in his lap. “I finally see that I’ve put too much pressure on you ever since your mother…died.” He swallowed and looked up. “For that, I’m sorry.”
Tears pricked her eyes. How many times had she wished to hear those words? Here they were, yet she could hardly believe them.
Elisa clutched the blanket tighter around her shoulders. Her wet T-shirt pressed into her back. “I just wanted to make you happy.”
“I know. And you did, I promise you.” His voice shook and he cleared his throat. “You were the only thing that got me through that year.”
“Odd way of showing it.” Elisa huddled deeper into the blanket. “I never felt like I could be myself with you. Like I was always one emotion away from setting you off. I had to hold everything inside.” So much so she could barely wait to move out when the time came, to get space to be herself. She tried to be herself with Noah, then with Trey. Both attempts backfired.
And here they were again. Except this time with Noah, it was her fault and she couldn’t fix it.
“I see that now. And again—I’m truly sorry.” Her father stared at the pillow. “I handled my grief poorly. You reminded me so much of your mom—your mannerisms, the way you wore your hair. Your emotions and reactions to things…I couldn’t handle the reminders.” He met her gaze, regret filling the depths of his eyes. “I failed.”
She’d never seen him look that way before. Her dad might be a lot of things, but a liar wasn’t one of them. He meant this apology with his whole heart.
Compassion surged. “You didn’t fail, Dad.” Elisa scooted forward on the chair. “You made mistakes, and so did I.”
“Mine were detrimental. I distanced from you, lost my temper too many times. Held on to grudges.” He shook his head. “Sometimes we get in the habit of doing something a certain way, then we keep doing it that way even when it no longer makes sense.”
“Like with the feud?”
His posture stiffened, then relaxed. “Exactly. I carried a torch that wasn’t even mine to carry for years, just because my family did. Then when it was time to let go, all that happened with Rhonda and—” He bit his lip. “Russell.”
“He’s a pretty awful guy. That part is legit.” She drew a breath. “But Noah’s different.”
“I think I’ve known that, too. Just still living on habit, assumptions. Prejudice.” He sighed. “It’s easier to be angry than sad sometimes.”
Her heart softened. “I know.”
He shifted on the couch, crossing one ankle over the other. “But I’ll give Noah a chance—a real chance, if he’s important to you.”
“He is.” A fresh wave of tears beckoned. “But I don’t think that’s going to be necessary.”
Dad tilted his head. “I take it your attempt at the police station didn’t go well?”
“I was too late. They were already released, and Noah…well.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to relive it right now.” Or ever. The image of his betrayed expression as he headed off into the rain would haunt her for weeks.
“Fair enough.” Dad met and held her gaze. “I’m here if you do later—even if there are tears or emotions involved.”
Elisa snort-laughed, one such tear slipping down her cheek. “Thanks.” He really was trying. Then she hesitated. “I do have a question.”
“Shoot.” He reached for the cookies between them on the coffee table. “I owe you answers to whatever you want.”
She took a breath. “Why did you send letters to Noah all those years ago?”
“Letters?” His brows furrowed as he settled back on the couch, cookie in hand.
“The ones that threatened him if we didn’t break up. You could’ve just talked to him.” She snorted. “I mean, you’re not exactly known for hiding what you want.”
Dad stared blankly at her as he chewed. “What letters?”
Elisa pressed her fingers to her lips. “Wait a minute. You would have just talked to him, wouldn’t you?” Her heart hammered in her throat as the truth registered. Her father hadn’t sent them.
So who had?