Half Moon Hill (41 page)

Just then, a knock came on the bookshop window and they all looked up to see Sue Ann smile and wave as she passed by—she wore a pretty dress of blue polka dots, and Anna suspected she was on her way to work at Destiny Properties, just off the town square.

On a lark, Anna said to Amy and Tessa, “Be right back,” then rushed out onto the sidewalk to stop Sue Ann.

“Whoa there, girlfriend, where’s the fire?” Sue Ann asked on a laugh as Anna nearly mowed her down.

But Anna felt too tense to even fake a giggle. “I need to ask you something.”

Sue Ann’s eyebrows rose in pleasant anticipation. “Sure. Fire away.”

“It’s about Cathy, the woman who used to own my house. What do you know about her? Do you know if she ever married? Or had kids? And if she married, do you know her husband’s name? And did he die before her? Was she alone in the house for many years before she passed away?”

When Sue Ann held up her hands and said, “Stop,” Anna realized she was rambling, asking too many questions at once. So she went quiet only to hear Sue Ann say, “I don’t really know anything about her family, Anna—but who told you she died?”

And Anna flinched, confused. “Huh?”

“She’s not dead,” Sue Ann said.

Anna’s back went ramrod straight. “She’s not?”

Sue Ann shook her head. “No. She just moved to an assisted living facility in Crestview. About ten years ago, I believe. She left the house when she couldn’t handle the upkeep due to a bad back. But otherwise, as far as I know, she’s doing fine.”

Anna nearly fainted. All this time, she’d just assumed the home’s previous owner had died years ago—due to the place being in such a state of disrepair. And when she’d signed the papers to buy the house, the other signature had belonged to a man she’d been told lived in Florida, so she’d assumed it was some relative of the owner’s whom the place had passed down to or who was handling the estate. “But . . . who sold the house to me? At the time, I didn’t much care or pay attention, and it all went through so quickly . . .”

“A cousin of hers, I think—he was a real estate attorney, and she sold the house to him when she moved out. He planned to fix it up and resell it, but just never got around to the fixing-it-up part—and then he moved away.” Sue Ann stopped then, giving her head a pointed tilt. “But why do you suddenly care so much about this?”

Anna sighed. How could she possibly explain?
Keep it simple.
“I’ve just . . . found a lot of her old things. And it made me curious about her.” She still couldn’t believe Cathy was alive! But now that she actually stopped and did the math—oh Lord, it made sense. Cathy was only around seventy. And sure, she could have died from a disease or something, but regardless, she
hadn’t
died, and this meant the picture Anna had been carrying around in her head of Cathy growing old in the house wasn’t true. “Do you happen to know the name of the facility where she lives?” Anna asked.

“Sure. It’s called Shady Acres Village. It’s right off Morningview Highway where it leads into Crestview. You’ve probably driven past it a hundred times.”

Anna still couldn’t get over it—Cathy had been that close all this time! But the important thing was—she was going to meet her! And she would find out how the story ended.

T
hat night, over a dinner of grilled chicken salad, Anna told Duke that Cathy was alive and well and living in Crestview and that she planned to drive over and visit her in the morning.

“That’s amazing, baby,” he said, looking as if he really understood what a big deal it was for her.
He’s not actually a jerk. He just doesn’t love you, that’s all. You have to make peace with that and move on with your life.

“I thought I’d take her the diaries, and a novel Robert gave her, and maybe the picture of him from the cabin.”

Duke nodded. “I actually meant to bring you the picture before now. I was gonna get it the night Mike was there—but that sidetracked me. I’ll go get it for you after we eat,” he offered.

She tried not to let that touch her at all and simply thanked him.

Later that night, after she’d placed the diaries, book, and photo in a small shopping bag on a table by the front door, Duke walked up behind her, eased his hands around her waist, and lowered a kiss to her neck. It felt good—too, too good—so she pulled away.

He said nothing at first and an awkward moment grew between them—until finally he asked, “Should I go sleep in the cabin? If you don’t want me here anymore, I understand.”

And Anna let out the breath she hadn’t quite realized she was holding. Oh God, this was hard. “No, that would be silly. I do want you here. I just . . .” She shook her head, tried to meet his eyes—and couldn’t quite do it. “It means something to me—being with you, like that. And since I know you’re leaving soon, I just . . . need to protect myself a little, you know?”

She couldn’t tell if he really understood or not—especially given the way men could take sex so very casually. She’d thought she could do that, too, with him, but turned out she was wrong. “Okay,” he said. “Whatever you want, Daisy.” And they slept next to each other, but not touching. Though, in a way, that was just as difficult as the alternative.

The next morning around ten, Anna arrived at the Shady Acres Village, an attractive retirement community that reminded her of a complex of one-story condos. And though it was nice, it was difficult to imagine Cathy someplace so modern—she was so used to thinking of Cathy living her whole life on Half Moon Hill.

After going to the main office, she told the receptionist, “I’d like to see Cathy Worth—though that may be her maiden name,” she added. The woman behind the desk didn’t question her further, making a quiet phone call and then showing Anna to a garden area with picnic tables and chairs, along with a shuffleboard court.

She’d seen pictures of Cathy as a girl in the photo albums in the trunk, but she would never have recognized her now. Still, her heart expanded nearly to bursting as the gray-haired lady with a cane ambled into the garden wearing cropped pants and a simple blouse.

She looked understandably wary as Anna stood up to greet her and said, “Cathy?”

“Yes,” the older lady replied.

“My name is Anna and I recently moved into the house where you grew up.”

At this, Cathy gasped, and from that second on, it was as if having the house in common gave them a bond that made Cathy trust her.

From there, Cathy sat down at a table with her and Anna explained that she’d found her old belongings. “I brought your diaries,” she said, pushing the small bag across the table toward her. “I thought you might want them.”

“That was thoughtful, dear,” Cathy said. “But I left them with the house because . . . I felt they belonged there, if that makes any sense.”

Only then she looked inside the bag—and pulled out the picture of Robert. And her eyes changed, softened, as a sigh left her lips. And for a very brief second, Anna saw in her that girl of sixteen. “Where did you find this?”

“In the cabin,” Anna said. “The other two pictures were gone—this was the only one left.”

Cathy’s eyes rose from the frame she held in her hand to Anna’s face. “You read the diaries,” she said. Her voice held no malice or embarrassment—just the acknowledgment that Anna knew. All of it.

“I did,” Anna confirmed. “I didn’t mean to trespass. And I had no idea we would ever meet. But then, when I found out just yesterday that you were here . . . I had to come.” And when Cathy didn’t respond right away, Anna rushed on to say, “The book is there, too, in the bag.
The Phantom of the Opera
.”

Cathy’s gaze had fallen back to the faded photo while Anna spoke, but now she reached in the shopping bag and drew out the Leroux novel. “Oh my,” she said, her voice gone fluttery. “These things do bring back memories.” Studying the cover, she let out another sigh. “You know, the real romance in this book was between Christine and Raoul. But there
is
something . . . sadly gripping about the phantom, about someone who’s never known love, isn’t there?”

And Anna sucked in her breath, her thoughts flying to Duke. He’d known love—from his mother, from friends like Lucky and Tessa. But there was something different about
romantic
love, about the way
she
loved him, wasn’t there? And even if he didn’t want that kind of love from
her
, she hoped someday he’d find it somewhere else.

When Cathy’s attention then drifted back to the photo, Anna’s stomach churned. Had she done the right thing, bringing Cathy’s things? “I hope the memories are good ones,” she said.

Cathy didn’t smile as she kept staring at the picture still in her hand—but finally she replied, “
Very
good ones.”

Anna stayed quiet then, letting Cathy absorb it all, until finally the older woman said, “Well, I
will
keep this picture, if you don’t mind. But the book and the diaries I’ll send back home with you.”

Anna nodded. “I’ll keep them there always and treasure them.” And as she watched Cathy touch Robert’s picture with her fingertips, she asked tentatively, “Whatever happened? With Robert? Did he come back?”

Without taking her eyes from the frame, Cathy said wistfully, “No—no, he didn’t. I’m afraid I never saw him again.”

And Anna’s heart nearly broke into pieces in her chest once more. Maybe she’d known the answer already, deep down, but she’d been hoping against hope to find out she was wrong. She swallowed past the lump rising in her throat to ask, “Did . . . did you find someone else then? Later? When you were older?”

Cathy gave her head a thoughtful tilt, then told Anna, “No, I never married.”

And Anna wanted to cry. It would be different if she’d thought Cathy had been alone by choice, that she’d found fulfillment in other ways, but she didn’t believe that.

Though Cathy spoke clearly, calmly, Anna could hear the sad truth in her voice. “I always thought someone else would come along—but they just didn’t. Maybe it was too much to hope for that kind of love twice in a lifetime. Or maybe I made it too hard for love to find me, locking myself away in that old house.”

“And you have no idea where Robert ended up?”

“When computers came into style, I looked for him—I found an obituary I believe was his, in Knoxville, Tennessee. It said he died in 1992, of cancer, and that he had one son. That’s all I know.”

Anna nodded. It all felt so bleak, she didn’t know what to say.

And then Cathy told her, “Not leaving with Robert that night is my greatest regret in life. Maybe it would have seemed reckless, crazy—but sometimes you have to take chances. I always wonder what would have happened if I had. Maybe something awful. But maybe something wonderful. And either way, it would have been
living
, and it would have been better than asking myself ‘what if?’ ever since.”

On impulse, Anna reached out and covered Cathy’s hand with her own. “Thank you for being so open with me. Reading your stories has meant a lot to me, made me feel connected to both you and the house. I’m fixing it up and planning to open it soon as a bed-and-breakfast,” she explained.

The news seemed to lift Cathy’s mood, change her focus. “That’s nice to hear. It’s always been too big a house for the very few people who have lived there. It’ll be nice that more people get to enjoy it.”

“I’m glad you like the idea.”

“Do you think maybe I could come see it sometime?” Cathy asked. “When it’s finished? I’d like to see what you’ve done with the place.”

And Anna nodded, deeply pleased. “Absolutely. I’d love for you to be my very first guest.”

Then Cathy squinted slightly, her head tilted to one side. “But you didn’t do all that work by yourself surely? It’s such a large house.”

So Anna shook her head. “A couple of friends helped me some on the interior. And I’ve also had help on the outside. From a guy . . . friend,” she concluded, sounding more sheepish than she liked.

Which had clearly given her away, because that’s when Cathy said without the slightest hesitation, “More than a friend. You love him. I can see it in your eyes.”

Anna just blinked. “It’s that obvious?” Then she sighed. “I used to be so much cooler.”

But Cathy only laughed. “I’d rather be in love than be cool.”

Anna wished she could deny the truth, but her truth had changed somewhere along the way, so she had no choice but to say, “Me too.”

“Never before had she confessed that she loved him.”

Gaston Leroux,
The Phantom of the Opera

Twenty-four

A
nna left Cathy with mixed emotions. She was happy they’d met, happy that she thought she’d added a little unexpected light to Cathy’s life. But she couldn’t help being sad that Cathy had spent her life alone, it seemed, and not by her choice.

Rather than going straight home, she stopped at Creekside Park—bypassing the ball fields and the area where the carnival was held each year, which was currently being turned into a makeshift arena for the demolition derby. She instead went to the pretty area that ran along Sugar Creek, the paved path lined with wild daisies that led to a little white gazebo much like the one in Miss Ellie’s garden. She wanted to do some thinking in a peaceful spot that wasn’t on Half Moon Hill.

She understood completely why Cathy, at sixteen, had made the choice to stay with her family. Robert had truly had nothing to offer her but his love, and who could say if it would have ultimately been enough for a girl who’d lived a comfortable, secure life up to that time? And yet she hated that Cathy harbored regrets about the decision. It seemed to Anna like it had simply been a no-win situation thanks to Cathy’s hard-hearted father.

But the things Cathy had said to Anna still echoed in her mind.
You have to take chances. It would have been better than asking myself “what if?” ever since.
“Ever since” was a damn long time.

Yet unfortunately . . . Anna was pretty sure she knew the answer. If Duke loved her, too, he wouldn’t be planning to leave.