Nine

A fter an invigorating shower, a cup of hot coffee, and fresh clothes, Anna retrieved the elusive envelope. Now, with it in her control, pulse racing, she pulled on the tab. Out spilled a gold locket. She peered inside a letter envelope and—

She let out a whistle.

Talk about a lot of cash.

She counted out thirty-five hundred-dollar bills, a fortune right now. She set it aside, fingered the bulky locket, then tipped the back to the light to view the unusual script. A flick of a finger opened it to an attractive woman's portrait. Something about her looked familiar. Her fist closed over the locket, and she picked up the typed paper with her other hand.

How odd. Some of the words faded into yellowed paper. Was it old?

She scanned it before reading, and a chill slid up her spine. The cold engulfed her entire body with the first words:

Please forgive me. There is much you do not know. I cannot fully explain or make amends, but I can say I was blinded by greed and then by an unexpected love. Yet, neither has true value without honesty and purpose. Oh what an unfortunate chain of poor choices!

I am now old and leave nothing but ruin. I am lonely, regretful, and all I have loved has been destroyed. Some, I fear, by my actions. Wealth is of no comfort, for I have caused enormous sorrow. Now I think of what could have been—of what should have been. What is even possible at this point? How do we start? I couldn't bring myself to face the unforgivable until I became consumed with the enormity of my actions. I am facing my mortality.

When I became aware of Lila's passing and your circumstances, I began searching for you. By grace, I have found you. In my last hour now and heartbroken by my actions, I attempt to right some wrongs.

Dear Anastasia, please come to Idaho. Come to the mountains of your mother's youth where everything changed course and I lost my way. Please don't wait. You owe me nothing even as I seek everything. This will be your journey because your mother was wronged and it should be made right. Please, Anastasia, please come.

The mascara, combined with the salty tears, made her eyes burn. She rubbed them, making it worse, and flipped the page over for a signature.

Nothing.

"Who wrote this?"

This person had no power over her or her emotions, but the words moved her at the mention of her mother. Lila, mother, forgiver, grace.

She wiped her tears away, exhausted, then read it again.

"Anna, we only have each other," her mother repeated over the years. "There is no one else we can trust. They're all gone."

Mother only spoke in detail about her past that one time during her final days. She never mentioned any other family. Who would think that they owed her anything?

Anna swallowed hard. She'd never known her grandparents or father. The topic of her father wasn't discussed. Yes, there was a name on her birth certificate. He was gone. Did it matter why? He'd never made an effort—not one—to know her. She'd borne the loneliness of being the only child of a quiet, private mother who struggled to keep things afloat with few kindnesses from life and died too soon.

If there was someone else, anyone else, wouldn't they have tried to help when they struggled, especially when her mother was ill and no longer strong enough to work?

She clenched her teeth and fisted her hands. The locket cut into her fingers. She'd never forget her mother's difficult experiences and how people treated her when she deserved much better. She watched it all her life. The image of her mother the day she returned to work after being out ill for an extended time still haunted Anna.

"Don't worry. It's okay. Someone else is using my office now," her mother had said. Her eyes focused on the plant in her hand as she picked the dried leaves off and laid them on the dirt. "They needed the office, and I still have a job. That's all that matters. You can take this plant back home for me. I won't have room for it now."

Anna sought a law degree so she could help other people fight the same injustices. That memory refreshed her mind. If she now had the opportunity to right some wrongs done to her mother, shouldn't she?

What was the connection between Anna, her mother, Idaho, and the envelope ? She tapped the table, only now realizing her phone was ringing. The screen displayed five missed calls, three from Sandy and two from an unknown caller. And a missed text. The phone rang again. Unknown displayed on the screen. She swiped it up and demanded, "What do you want?"

"Did you get the package?" the woman asked.

Anna's heart started beating faster. The phone slipped in her clammy hands as she hesitated. "I don't know what you're talking about, and I don't know who you are."

"Anastasia, did you receive the package? The travel money, the locket, and the letter?"

Anna was silent.

"Anastasia, are you there?"

Her finger hovered over the end-call button, then eased away. She brought the phone closer, tired of games. "Who are you? Why are you calling me? How did you get my number and access to my purse?"

"It doesn't matter who I am. It matters what you do with the information and travel money. You're needed immediately. Further details can be provided at that time."

Seriously? Was the woman nuts? "I don't know you. I was injured, and you expect me to respond to some cryptic telephone call after you've harmed me? Why would I trust you?"

Answers. She needed answers.

Still, something inside her was stirring. If for nothing else, because of the mention of her mother. If something could've made her mother's life more comfortable or righted any wrongs for her, how could Anna not pursue this? Even after having been physically harmed. Even unsure who to believe. "Anna, we only have each other. There is no one else we can trust. They're all gone."

"Anastasia, I'm sorry you were harmed. I'd never want to harm you. You should come soon. Come to that address I texted to you. Do not delay."

If only her mother were here. Would Anna ever stop wishing her mother were here?

"I don't have anything else to say," she responded. "I don't know you. I'm tired. Don't call me again."

She hit the disconnect button. She should call Dr. Clarke, thank him, and let him know she reported the break-in to the police.

She headed to bed and snuggled down, exhausted. The phone was ringing somewhere in the distance as she drifted off to sleep.

Hours later, she unlocked her phone. Four missed calls. One from Sandy, one from Dr. Clarke—Garrett—and two unknowns during her nap.

She scanned her texts and paused at the address on Warm Springs Avenue in Boise.

"Anna, look at that house." Her mother had pointed toward a magnificent home one sunny day. The pale-yellow house rose from a slight hill, and wide, inviting steps led up to the double doors. The three-story Victorian with its bay windows and turret looked like a castle to Anna as a child, and white flowers floating on the surrounding trees lent a magical fairy-dust feel. She'd imagined they were popcorn balls and the roses lining the front in every color were gumdrops. Each detail of the house created a sense of wonder as, with their car windows down, the dreamy smell of roses wafted in.

"Why would I be going to a home on Warm Springs Avenue?"

She frowned at the missed calls again. The first returned call would be to Dr. Clarke.

"Hello?" That strong, smooth voice!

"Dr. Clarke, this is Anna. Anna Stanten."

"Anna." She could almost hear his grin through the phone. "Please, call me Garrett."

"Well, I'm sorry I didn't call earlier. I saw your missed call, and I wanted to make sure you knew everything was okay. You may have saved my life. I don't know what I would've done without you." Great, she gushed like a schoolgirl.

She seemed to be repeating herself. Her face heated. "And for staying with me during the night to make sure I was safe." Yes, that especially.

"You're okay, really? Did you call the police?"

"Yes, I called the police and reported everything. They said that since no one was harmed, nothing was stolen, and we really didn't see the intruder, there wasn't much they could do. Of course, they'll investigate. But they didn't sound optimistic. They took my statement over the phone and had me complete some things online. They'll call me with any questions."

"Are you okay? How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay, but I still seem to lose my focus and ramble. I also seem to be dragging—tire easily."

"It takes a while to get over a concussion in usual circumstances. With all that you've been through, you might have to allow yourself longer. Do you want me to come over? Do you need anything?"

Yes, yes, yes! Biting down those words, she took a deep breath. "I'm okay today, but I appreciate the offer."

"Okay. You continue to take it easy. You have my number. Please use it any time."

"Thank you… Garrett ." She smiled, hoping he could feel her happiness. After ending the call, she glanced at the other missed call, Sandy. Anna stared at the screen, then set the phone back down.

She walked over to the tall, broken dresser, opened the drawer, and removed the red and blue scarves on top. She pulled out the envelope, reread the letter, studied the locket, and recounted the money. She then snapped a picture of each item before placing it back inside. With the package next to her and her phone in hand, she once again searched for flights to Boise.

The earliest reasonable flight with only one stop would leave from Houston, adding a hundred and fifty miles of driving but saving her over five hundred dollars—more than she'd earn in three shifts at the diner.

Speaking of which… She dialed. When she didn't recognize the man's voice that answered, she asked for Mr. Gray.

"He's busy in the kitchen and can't take a call right now. Can I help you?"

"Who am I speaking to?" No way would she give much information to anyone unfamiliar.

"This is Rowan Landinger. Who is this?"

Great. She'd never trusted him anyway. "Rowan, this is Anna. Could you ask Mr. Gray to call me when he has time?"

"Anna, how are you? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Thank you for checking on me that day." Maybe she should give him some grace. He seemed genuinely concerned. "Please be sure to tell Mr. Gray I called." Now why'd she add the reminder? Rowan was a professional.

"You're okay?"

"Yes, I have a few—"

"Mr. Gray called the police. We don't have cameras, and no one saw anything. But you should know he reported the incident."

Suddenly weak, she braced her free hand on the rattling dresser. She had nothing to provide to the police about the incident. She saw a shadowed figure before she saw nothing.

"Okay, thank you. Goodbye." She pushed the red button. She couldn't muster more.

She frowned at the remaining missed calls. Not wanting to concern Sandy again, Anna sent a text, something she rarely did since Sandy avoided texting.

Anna: Sandy, while I'm recovering I've decided to take the trip, go to Idaho. It probably is a dead end, but you're right. I won't know unless I go and find out. I'll stay in touch and reach out when I return.

Anna rubbed her eyebrows and placed the phone back down. Then it flashed the diner's caller ID.

Here goes nothing . She swiped to accept. Mr. Gray had been unpredictable lately. "Hello."

"Anna, this is Mr. Gray. Rowan said you called. Are you okay?"

How long until that wasn't the first question in every conversation?

"I'm improving. Thank you. I wanted to let you know it's still going to be a while before the doctor will release me to lift trays and work." A white lie because she'd forgotten to ask Garrett. "While I'm unable to work, I'd like to wrap up things in Houston."

In his silence, she could almost hear him grimace.

"We'll get someone to cover for you. Since you were injured on the property, the diner owner insists you continue to receive your pay based on your typical daily average, including tips."

Taken back, she dropped onto the edge of her bed.

"Um, wow. Mr. Gray, thank you. Please pass my thanks along. I can't tell you how much this means to me. I never expected such generosity."

"We contacted the police. They couldn't determine anything about the culprit. Rowan mentioned he told you in case the police follow up with you. Just give me an idea of your plans once you know them. I need to go, Anna." He was back true to form. This was more familiar.

She said a mumbled version of thank you about five more times, then disconnected. Whoa. What had just happened?

A text buzzed her phone.

Sandy: Proud of you. Stay strong. Be safe. Let me know if you need anything.

Poor Sandy, it may have taken her these last fifteen minutes to put that together. Technology wasn't her strength, but she had others. Anna wanted to feel pride in her decisions, make the right choice. Playing it safe didn't help. Maybe being bold would start a new chapter.

She finished packing, placed her knee on her bag, adding her weight to apply enough force to close it, then made her last call. As the phone rang, she almost hoped it would go to Garrett's voicemail. She had practiced what to say and played the call over and over in her mind several times. Still, she'd end up winging it.

"Hello, Anna," he drawled, his accent low and thick. Well, his voice sure hadn't lost its appeal.

"Hey there." She still couldn't smoothly use his first name. "I was calling to let you know I'm doing fine, but I'm going out of town for a few days."

Hmm, could she say "awkward silence"?

"Thank you for calling. I'm no longer officially your doctor, but you can call me anytime. You're really doing okay? Say ‘rib' as your emergency word if you need me to come or to call 911."

Although touched, she giggled at the word choice.

"That is thoughtful. I'll remember the word, although I might need to use that word for real. We might need to come up with a different one." They were hurting earlier. She pressed a hand to them now. "I'm okay. I'm flying out of Houston tomorrow for something family related." That sentence almost made her sick. It felt like one of those what's-wrong-with-this-picture games.

"We haven't known each other that long, so I hope it's not odd if I tell you that I'll miss you while you're gone. You remind me of someone I cared a great deal about—someone special." He hesitated. "I'm here for you—as your friend. All you need to do is say the word, and I'll help however I can."

"Thank you. I promise I'll let you know if I need anything."

When they said their goodbyes, she hung up, feeling blue. He was a wonderful person who lit up when he saw her and gave her respect. Yes, she had to admit it. She would miss him too. What did he mean when he said that she reminded him of someone special? Misty mentioned her resemblance to his fiancée who died—if you believe secondhand information. Is that who he meant—his dead fiancée?