AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Grimacing, I shut the device off and leaned back. By the time we were in the air, it was too late to reply, but I made a note to talk to her as soon as I was able the next day… or afternoon. I was sure I would sleep like the dead when I got home.
The drive from Denver nearly killed me, but I got home safe on the downside of three a.m., sleep-walked to my bed, stripping as I went. By the time I toppled to my bed, I was in my boxers, and in seconds, I was out like a light.
* * *
Something was getting on my nerves. Something was vibrating on the bedside table hard enough to cause earthquakes. By the fourth or tenth time it rocked on the table, I slapped a hand out, ready to fling the damn thing into the wall, but then Mia’s name flashed on the screen.
I swiped it open, “Mia?” my voice was a cracked, hoarse mess. “What is it?”
“Are you hungover?” she asked, “You know what, I don’t care. You need to come down to the museum right now. They opened the chest, Ethan, and there are things here you need to see.”
I sat up and looked at the time, nine-thirty-five. I’d barely gotten six hours of sleep, and I felt jetlagged to hell, but if Mia needed me, I had to show up. I had to prove to her I was nothing and would never be like what her dad expected from me.
“I got in late,” I said, pressing the heel of my hand to my eyes. “What’s going on with the chest?”
“It’s open,” she said, breathlessly. “I just got the call, and I don’t think it's right to go see it without you. Please join me.”
I still felt groggy and unbalanced but decided to see her. “Give me twenty minutes,” I told her, “I’ll be there.”
ChapterTwenty
Mia
Iwas on tenterhooks stepping into the museum to meet Cécile. When she had called earlier about the lockmaster opening the old chest, my heart leaped into my throat and was now lodged in it. I made sure to drive slowly because my hands were shaking, and my mind was racing with thoughts about this and that.
What was inside?
Why had it been buried in my lands?
Was it truly Victor’s?
I got to the museum car park, found a space, and then looked around, hoping Ethan had arrived. When I had spoken to him, he had sounded exhausted, and I had instantly regretted disturbing him, but it only felt right to have him there when we went through the chest if it was his great-grand uncle’s chest.
When I didn’t see him drive in, I reluctantly left for the doors and found Cécile waiting for me. She was smiling ear to ear and said, “Dear, I think you might have found something more valuable than a map of silver and gold.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
She handed me a pair of gloves, and I wore them while approaching the room she had cleared out for the chest. It was open, the hinges dark with oil. Resting in the bed of the chest, leather and velvet lined bed, were letters… dozens and dozens of letters.
“Oh my god,” I whispered. “What are these?”
“Look and see,” Cécile smiled.
I took one up and read a slashing hand, “To my love Sarah…” My heart tightened as my eyes dropped to the end of the letter. “Yours, Victor V.”
I nearly fainted.
I lifted another, gently opened it, and ready, “To the only man I will love…” again, I looked at the bottom, “…Sarah.” I turned to Cécile. “…I was right, they were in love?”
“Who were?” Ethan asked while walking in. I turned to him; he was in dark jeans and his favorite gray Henley; dangling from his hand was a small bag. Dark circles were under his eyes, and his hair looked a mess, but he was sharp-eyed and aware.
I lifted a letter. “Your great-granduncle was in love with Sarah.”
His brows shot up. “You don’t say?”
“Listen to this: ‘Your eyes sparkled in the moonlight, and I could gaze into the well of your gaze for nights on end. I am afraid to touch as how I would want for the sake of sullying your innocence. I miss the feel of your gentle touch on the longest, longest nights, and I yearn to hold you in truth and honor.’”
He sat the gift bag to the side and then reached for a letter, but Cécile stopped him with the gloves. Obediently, he put them on and fished out a letter.“To the one who holds my heart. Seeing you at the market strains my heart because I cannot touch you. I am not the one who receives your smile, nor am I the one to hear your soft laugh. I miss your soft voice when you read to me under the moonlight. Sarah, you are the only one I will love, and I will find a way for us to be one, even if our families do not agree.”
