Introducing Candace to Belinda is not as awkward as I thought it might be; the three of us have all traveled the same journey—along different paths, of course—and we’ve a kinship that strangely unites us. As we make our way home to the Loralei through the peaceful countryside, Candace keeps remarking how beautiful and green the view out the carriage window is. She is equally taken with the Loralei, as I’d hoped she would be. It is surely nothing like the fancy hotels she probably stayed in as a girl growing up in a wealthy family, but there is a quaint beauty at the Loralei that I would guess no opulent palace can match.
Belinda gives Candace her bedroom on the main floor. Belinda and Sarah join Kat and me on the second floor. Candace, Kat, and I are taking up three of the inn’s guestrooms and Candace insists on paying Belinda the room rate for all of them.
Belinda at first attempts to refuse, but Candace says, “The inn is your livelihood, and I must have a part in making this solution work for all of us. Let me have my part.”
Belinda relents.
Candace is exhausted by the time we unpack her things, and Belinda suggests she rest before dinner. But Candace does not want to be inside; she wants to be out by the garden under that peach tree. Elliot hauls out a sofa and positions it so that Candace can nap among the shady boughs and buzzing bees. The picture of her on that sofa with Kat sitting next to her on a blanket with Sarah in her lap is a beautiful image I know I will always remember.
What a beautiful family Martin has made of us, despite himself.
•••
For a full week I allow myself to enjoy the serenity of the Loralei and the treasure of having Kat there and knowing that it is the beginning of her always being with me. Candace spends as much time outside as the weather will allow, and even though the intense Tucson heat is no longer aiding to keep her tuberculosis at bay, she seems rejuvenated in her spirit if not in her body. I think she’s happy for the first time in years.
We spend many of our afternoons out under the peach tree, sitting on a blanket and listening to her tell us stories from her childhood, a pastime I encourage so that Kat will always feel a connection to her first mother.
I find I very much enjoy helping Belinda run the inn. With Sarah still waking at nights to nurse, I quickly settle in to being in charge of making breakfast for us and any inn guests. Belinda also hands over all the laundry duties to me when I ask her to. I like doing the washing. It reminds me of what is possible to clean away with just water, soap, and effort.
Elliot is at the inn nearly every day; it’s plain to see how very much he loves Belinda, and it is also clear that Belinda’s perspective of what romantic love looks like is also changing. Time will ease the distress of the mistake she made in choosing Martin over Elliot, I am sure. When it does, Elliot will be there.
When I have a moment alone with Elliot I ask him what he has done about the mine. He tells me the earthquake caved in the entrance. There may be gold to be had yet inside, but getting to it now will be near impossible without immense labor and probably dynamite.
“No one will be going back inside for a long time, if at all, but I set out a sign to remind any passersby that it is private property,” he tells me. “Belinda has not been out there, and it is far enough away on the property that she doesn’t need to see it. That mine has brought her nothing but heartache.”
I ask Elliot if he knows how Martin was able to mine the gold without Belinda knowing, and he answers that he suspects Martin had enlisted a couple of paid laborers to dig it out. Two Chinese men dressed in filthy clothes had been seen multiple times in Martin’s company in San Mateo. Elliot had been asked by a longtime friend of Belinda’s father if he knew who those Chinese men were who’d been with Belinda’s new husband.
“I never saw the two men myself,” Elliot says. “And no one has seen them lately.”
I walk out to the mine’s entrance after this conversation to see its destruction for myself. There is no longer an opening to the cave. Instead, there is an immense pile of boulders and ano trespassingsign. I am very glad the mine sits on the farthest edge of Belinda’s property, such that none of us need ever stand again where I am standing.
•••
As the first of June approaches, I know I can no longer put off going back to San Francisco to see the ruins of the house for myself. I have checked the final tallies of the dead and injured from the quake and fire. Martin Hocking’s name is not listed anywhere, which means either he didn’t get out of the house and no one has identified his remains, or somehow he did get out but he didn’t use the name Martin Hocking while getting treatment for his injuries. I must know which it is.
The four of us—Belinda, Candace, Elliot, and I—sit in the common area one evening after the children are in bed, and on a night when there are no guests, to discuss what my next steps should be. It is nice to have Elliot a part of the conversation, as he is levelheaded and somewhat outside the situation. Not only that, but he made a trip to the county recorder’s office in Redwood City to look into the legalities of getting out from underneath a marriage when a spouse has vanished.
We already decided earlier that my reporting Martin as a polygamist to the San Francisco Police no longer seems wise. Neither Belinda nor Candace wants me going to prison for having abandoned Martin to die in that house, nor do we want blame to fall on Kat for having caused his terrible injuries in the first place. A full investigation into his polygamist activities wouldsurely lead to the police to discover that Martinhadcome back to San Francisco on the day of the earthquake. I would be asked too many questions.
It does, however, seem to be in Belinda’s best interest to report one James Bigelow as having deserted her. Elliot tells us Belinda cannot file for a dissolution of her marriage based on desertion if she does not report that her husband has done so. We decide she will tell the authorities that she and James had grown distant since their rather impulsive nuptials, that he wasn’t keen on the responsibilities of being a father, and that he’d threatened to leave Belinda. The authorities may or may not exert any effort in looking for James Bigelow, but even if they do, what will they find of him? James Bigelow is a ghost. He will be seen as a scoundrel who truly abandoned his wife, leaving no trace of where he ran off to.
But it is not as clear to me what I should do. “If I go back to San Francisco and report Martin as missing, will they look for him?” I wonder aloud. “With everything needing to be done to recover from the earthquake, I wonder if they will.”
“Then the same will be true for you as it is for me,” Belinda says. “You, too, can be free to marry again. They will eventually declare Martin dead, won’t they?”
“After seven years,” Elliot says. “That’s a long time, Sophie.”
“What else can I do? I can’t change how long it takes,” I reply. “If it takes seven years, it takes seven years. I would have to wait.”
“You could report Martin as having abandoned you like I am going to do. You could have your marriage dissolved, too,” Belinda says.
But I don’t want my marriage dissolved. I’d rather be viewedas Martin’s widow than an unmarried woman. I don’t want to go back to being Sophie Whalen.
“I would never be able to prove Martin abandoned me,” I say instead. “He was good to Kat and me. And he owned that beautiful house and all the furniture inside it. Plus he had three thousand dollars in a bank account. He wouldn’t just leave all of that as your James would have left you and your inn. I could never prove that he would do that.”
The three of us are quiet for a moment. I don’t want to report that Martin has deserted me, but I’m not convinced I should report him missing, either.
“What if I report him missing, and in their search for him, the police go to what’s left of the house and find his remains?” I ask. “Won’t they wonder why I didn’t know he was in the house when it burned? Won’t they wonder why he didn’t get out? The police and firemen and army soldiers were going up and down the neighborhood streets, shouting for people to evacuate. I read that in the papers. Won’t they wonder why Martin didn’t heed their command?”
