Chapter 12

It’sbright and early when Thomas arrives bearing a gift of daisies, which he shoves at me with a slight blush. “Picked you these on the way.”

Smiling, I take the flowers and give him a kiss on his weathered cheek. “Thank you, Thomas. I don’t ever remember being given flowers by a gentleman before.” I stretch up to the top shelf of the cupboard for a vase.

“That guy in that fancy suit at your apartment gave you flowers,” Lucas states, having overheard.

“Yes, but he wasn’t a gentleman. Now go wash up and stop listening to adult conversations.” I try to hide my embarrassment by setting the table for breakfast.

Sometimes I really wished I could gag Lucas. He’s my nephew and I love him, but sometimes… Ugh!

I watch Thomas who appears to still be chuckling at Lucas’s comment. “Are you all right, Thomas?” I ask. I take in his appearance, and he seems better this morning but that hadn’t stopped me from worrying about him last night.

“I’m fine. Don’t be worrying about me.”

I give him a long look. “I won’t…for now.”

“I was wondering if Lucas would like to come back with me to look through some more comics.”

“That would be fine. What comics are they?”

No sooner has Thomas sat at the table, then I place his breakfast in front of him. “Thanks, Mack. Our Gang. I have every issue as well.”

I sit at the table now that Lucas has joined us. “You know I’ve heard of them. They’re the ‘Little Rascals’ characters, right?”

“That’s right. I have the first issue in October 1942, to the last one before they added Tom and Jerry, which would be issue thirty-eight in November 1947. I didn’t care much for the Tom and Jerry stories,” he says, enjoying his breakfast.

“Wow, that’s some collection you must have.”

“I know.”

We finish the rest of our breakfast in silence, apart from Lucas, who keeps slurping his milk. Once finished he tracks his parents travels throughout the atlas with Thomas.

Not long after, the two head out, hand in hand. I’m surprised with how quickly they have become friends. Lucas is used to spending time with older people, because of his grandparents and where they live, but it usually takes a lot longer for him to warm up to someone new. Then again, Thomas isn’t like the people at my parents’ village. He’s, different—all grumpy and lovable on the outside, and like a mischievous little boy on the inside, so perfect for Lucas.

* * *

“Thomas?”Lucas said with a quizzical look on his face. “Why don’t you like Tom and Jerry?”

Thomas hadn’t expected that question and burst out laughing. “I preferred the Our Gang kids. They used to get into trouble like I did as a child.” He grinned. “Used to give me some good ideas, too.”

As they walked hand in hand to Thomas’s cottage, it brought back memories of another time. Except he was the child, and his sister, Rose, was the one holding his hand. She had been taking him to the beach, probably close to seventy-five years ago now, when he was five or six.

Once he opened his cottage door, Lucas ran inside, straight to the living room where Thomas kept the comics for him to read. Thomas followed behind him at a slower pace with his mind still on Rose. He hadn’t thought about her in a long time. He’d loved his sister, and always thought she’d died hating him until Mack had started to read the diary.

He’d lived with regret about that final night, and in seventy years, he hadn’t spoken about it. If only he’d told his father, perhaps Rose would have lived her life with the man she’d obviously loved. It wouldn’t have been easy at first because of their fathers strictness, but if their love were true, they would have made it work.

An excited Lucas brought him back to the present. “Can I look at this one, Thomas, please?”

He glanced down. “Not that one.” He removed it from Lucas’s excited fingers as he pulled out the next issue and offered it to him. “Try this one.”

Thomas moved away from Lucas and walked the short distance to his bedroom. He felt so old. The comic in his hands, as he glanced down at it, brought back the memories as though they had happened only yesterday. Sitting on the side of his bed, he placed the comic on his night table to read later, when he was alone.

It was dated April 1, 1947, the comic his sister had bought him as a surprise. She’d left it on his bed the night she’d died. He’d placed it into the box with the other issues, having never opened it.

Perhaps it was time to lay old ghosts to rest and read it.

* * *

I now havethe morning alone, so I decide to retrieve my laptop. I really need to try and find Jacob. Heck, I’m half in love with him myself.

I know his name is Jacob Evans, and going with his age, he was born around 1924 or 1925. I decide to check Boston first and start to get all excited when only one result appears for a man named Jacob Evans in 1924. As I look at the information, I’m delighted there is no death certificate, at least in the state of Massachusetts, but there is a marriage license for a Jacob Evans dated April 19, 1947. Unfortunately, after I purchase credits to view the license, a message pops up saying, that due to a fire there is no copy on file. I pause and tap my lip in thought as I ponder the date. Is this the same man that Rose loved? Why would he get married so quickly? Still, I have no other leads so I continue following the trail of this Jacob Evans.

After about ten minutes, I find a telephone number and address for him in Brookline, Boston. I’m not sure whether to get in touch or not as he appears to get married a week after Rose died. I find it strange, even if he’d spoken to Rose’s parents by then.

With a deep breath, I pick my phone up and dial the number, which is answered on the second ring.

“Evans’ residence,” a feminine voice answers.

“Oh, hello. My name is Mackenzie Harper, and I was wondering if this is the correct number for a Mr. Jacob Evans?”

“What’s the reason for the inquiry?”

“Whom I speaking to, please?” I ask in reply. I need to be a bit cautious in case I’m talking to his wife.

“I’m Martha, Mr. Evans housekeeper.” Then she goes silent, having realized she’s practically admitted to me that I have the correct Jacob.

“All right, Martha, this is going to sound strange, but I’ve come across a diary dated March and April 1947. It contains information about a Jacob Evans. If your employer is the same Jacob Evans who lived in Cape Elizabeth, Maine, during that time, then I really need to speak to him. I’m concerned he’s been living all this time thinking something happened that didn’t. If that makes any sense?”

“That’s some story, Miss Harper. I’ll have to find out for you. Can I take your number and your address?”

I give her the phone number and address for Rose Cottage, and express again, how urgent the matter is. I really hope Martha passes the message on. Otherwise, I’ll have to visit once Lucas has gone home to his parents.

“I have it. Thank you.” Then Martha hangs up.

* * *

“Who was that, Martha?”

Martha quickly turned with an audible gasp of surprise. “Oh, Mr. Dean. I didn’t know you were home. It was a young lady inquiring about your grandfather.”

Dean placed his motorcycle helmet on top of the side table. “What about my grandfather?”

Martha was flustered. “She said she’d discovered a diary from 1947 and wanted to know if the Jacob mentioned was your grandfather. It can’t be, really, because apart from the war, I don’t think he lived anywhere other than here, and certainly not Maine.”

“Hmm, did you take her contact details?”

He walked over to Martha and took the information from her. “Please don’t mention anything until I’ve had time to check this out.”

“If you’re sure, Mr. Dean?”

“I am.”

Dean had been thinking about escaping for a while now, and as he glanced down at the information on the piece of paper, he rubbed his fingers over the address. He needed to get away from his mother, who kept throwing Cynthia at him and going on and on about getting married. All because she wanted grandchildren. She really was driving him nuts, and with the perfect excuse to disappear for a short while, he wasn’t about to pass it up.

Escaping to his room, he tossed his jacket onto the bed and dropped his large frame into the chair at his desk. Opening the lid to his laptop, Dean brought up a search engine and had a look at available summer rentals near Cape Elizabeth. He smiled when he saw his luck was holding—there was a cottage right next door to the mystery caller’s address, and it appeared to be available for the next few weeks.

After he’d debated with himself about whether this really was a good idea or not, he picked up his phone and dialed the contact number before he could change his mind.

His last contract had ended, and the new graphic work he had scheduled didn’t start for another two months so it was the perfect time to head out on vacation.

He paid the deposit with his credit card and arranged to pay the rest in cash when he collected the keys from his new landlady.

On his way out of the house, Dean left a message with Martha for his mother, saying he had gone away for a few weeks, much to Martha’s amusement. She knew he would do anything to avoid his mother and her matchmaking.

Dean climbed onto his Harley and headed north up the coast, thinking about the mysterious Miss Mackenzie Harper.

* * *

Mid-afternoon soon arriveswhen I hear my phone ring and dash to answer it, only to find my sister Melinda on the other end.

“Hi sis, how’s everything? Is Lucas, okay? Any gorgeous guys? Bored yet?”

I sigh in relief when Melinda finally shuts up to catch a breath. For some reason, when Melinda is on the phone, I can hardly shut her up, but talking to her in person, she can hold a perfect conversation. “Everything’s okay. Lucas is great. No gorgeous guys, unless you count a charming elderly man named Thomas, and no, we’re not bored yet.”

“Sorry, Mack.” Melinda giggles down the phone as she realizes she hasn’t shut up long enough for me to answer her questions.

“It’s all right. I’m used to you by now.”

While I’m listening to my sister chat away, I hear a motorcycle outside. I plaster my nose up against the kitchen window in time to see a jean-and-leather clad guy pull up next door. He looks a fine specimen—tall, dark, and mysterious.

I grab a magazine off the counter and use it to fan myself because I’ve started to get all hot and bothered. He looks delicious, and I really hope that when he removes his helmet, his face matches the rest of him.

“Mack, are you listening to me?” Melinda asks.

“Yes.”

“No, you’re not. And did I hear a motorcycle?”

“Yes, you did, and a very hot guy has just pulled up outside next door. Hope he’s moving in. He looks sinful.” I laugh at my sister. For once, I’ve managed to shut her up. I turn around to find Lucas standing behind me with a big grin on his face. “Here, talk to your mother.” I pass him the phone.

I continue to gaze at the guy next door and have tuned out the conversation Lucas is having with his mother about Thomas.

Biker guy has removed his helmet. He’s tanned, has plenty of muscles, and cropped dark hair. Mouthwatering.

Mmm, I won’t mind getting to know him. Things are looking up for this vacation.