Then again, it shouldn’t have surprised her. Since Jack called her two weeks ago, she’d discovered he possessed a depth he didn’t allow many to see. That realization made her curious, and much to her chagrin, ignited a longing to know the real Jack Cruz—a desire she must tamp down quickly.
Nevertheless, she did promise to call him should she find any related information.
This shouldn’t be hard. It would have been easier if they hadn’t danced around each other the seven days previously and only communicated through texts. If only this information would lend itself to a text.
She called his number, half wishing he wouldn’t answer, half wishing he would so she could hear his voice. His voicemail picked up, and she started leaving a message. “Hi, it’s Anna. I wasn’t sure-”
Another call came through. She held the phone out and saw Jack was calling her back. She clicked to end her voicemail and switched over. “Good morning.”
“Morning.” His speech was slow and full of sleepiness.
“Did I wake you?”
“Maybe. I think.”
She stifled a giggle. “I can call you back later.”
“No, it’s okay.” The noise of shuffling crossed the line, and when he spoke again, he sounded more alert. “I needed to get up anyway.”
“Late night?”
“Friends and I went to a concert in Wilmington. What’s up?”
She put him on speaker and set her phone on the counter, poured a cup of coffee. “I may have found a lead on Edwin.”
“What? When?” Any trace of slumber left his voice.
“Last night. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and since I couldn’t sleep, worked late into the night.” And was currently living on two hours of sleep.
“What did you find out?”
“Not much, but it’s a start. Have you heard of Weston Island?”
“Off the Virginia coast, right?”
“Yes. I found an old newspaper article from the Richmond Times that mentions an Edwin and Davinia Smith from Weston Island. The article was from nineteen-fourteen.” She added sugar and creamer to her coffee, stirred, and drank a sip.
“That’s fifteen years after our letter, which sounded like a goodbye. Do you think it could be them?” Hope mingled with doubt, adding a desperation to his tone.
“I’m not sure. There is a small museum on the island that keeps records of the residents and news. They haven’t moved into the digital age yet and have an old school microfiche machine. I can use my teacher ID to access it, but they are only open on Fridays and Saturdays.”
“How long would it take to drive there?” he asked.
“Less than four hours.”
He cleared his throat. “This is my only Saturday free until after Easter. I don’t want to wait several weeks to go. Up for a drive?”
No, no she wasn’t. Not with him in close proximity when her feelings were all in a flutter. “Sure.”
“What time do you want to leave? I’ll need an hourish to get ready.”
“Your house is on the way. Why don’t I meet you at your place at nine?” she suggested.
“Perfect. Let me get off here and get ready. If anything changes in that time, give me a call. Leave a text if I don’t answer.”
“See you soon.” She ended the call and ran a hand through her hair. Would she ever learn?
After gulping down the rest of her coffee, she called her mom and let her know she’d be out of town for the day. As a single woman, she made a habit of always letting somebody know where she would be if it was out of the ordinary. Thankfully, Mom didn’t ask questions, and accepted Anna’s story that she was going for research. Which was one-hundred percent true.
