“Nathan’s things. They released them.” She frowns. “Not the stone, though. Seems Dr. Clark got clearance from the authorities to take it into his possession.”
“I think the stone is why he’s here,” I say. “He’s a materials expert. Maybe he’ll find answers.”
I move to Maddie’s side and rub my hands over the journals. More of Nathan’s handwriting and drawings are inside. He preferred the feel of writing his thoughts. To touch ideas physically. I’d watched him sometimes. He was slow, methodical, and careful to think before committing words to paper.
And his poems… When Maddie and I met after Mark’s death, she gave me the poem she’d found in Nathan’s things.
Between waves, a memory sings
Whispers of a touch
The sea calls, but it will not claim
I hear her
It wasn’t the first note he’d written to me. Before we were together, he’d sneak into my backpack and stick Post-its on my notebooks with quotes and stray bits of wisdom from philosophers and his favorite poets. Words meant to keep me focused. To teach.
After we admitted what we felt, they turned into love notes and short poems he wrote me himself. I’d find them in my purse at work and tucked under his side of the blanket after he’d left for the day. The one Maddie found must have been his last. He never got the chance to hide it for me.
The pain of missing him has settled deep in my bones. It’s never going to go away.
“Take them, Crystal.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t think I can.”
“Why not?”
I don’t want to upset Maddie, but she and I are so different in how we handle loss. She’s relentlessly driven to find answers, to comb over every clue. Me. I want peace. To move on with Natalie. I’ve accepted that he’s gone.
“The police lost Nathan’s encrypted note.”
I flinch. “What?”
“They claim they never had it.”
Maddie and Nathan created a language as kids to send each othersecretmessages for fun. She’d found a note he’d written in this code, but she didn’t have time to decipher it before Markstole it. Nathan wanted to keep a secret that no one other than Maddie could uncover.
I swallow the lump in my throat.
“Someone is lying,” she adds. “They told me they had it right after Mark died and that they’d give it to me when they finished.”
Natalie tugs on my shirt. “Momma, can we go to the beach now?” I glance at the clock—10:30 a.m. I promised Natalie we’d stop by the beach so she could look for seashells.
“Just a minute, sweetie.”
I think of the man last night and the constant feeling of being watched. Then there’s Finn. And the stone. Could either of these men be digging into Nathan’s secrets? I don’t believe in coincidences.
Maddie needs to focus on her family right now.
“Let me know how I can help,” I tell her.
“You focus on that new job of yours and find us some answers about how to save the coral. Ms. Connor’s at the beach house. She’ll help me with Christopher.”
“Who’s going to keep up the inn?”
Maddie inherited the Driftwood Inn and Cottages from Nathan, and since she moved in with Scott, Ms. Connor has resumed running the day-to-day operations, including homemade breakfasts.
“We called around and found some help,” she says. “Someone to clean and make simple breakfasts for the guests. He starts today.”
