Cara positioned her fingers on the keys of her laptop. “All set.”
For the next hour, they worked through several pages of the journal. It was a painstaking process, with Natalie often resorting to a magnifying glass as she tried to decipher certain faded words. For the most part, however, she was able to make sense of the narrative that had been written by sixteen-year-old Marie Boyer in 1924.
After a particularly thorny passage, Natalie looked over at her. “Are you finding this helpful?”
“Very.” Cara finished typing the last phrase. “Marie was onthe front lines when big changes began to happen here, and the first-person glimpses she offers are invaluable.”
“That erawasa pivotal time. Papa often talked about how the highway that was constructed between Old Mines and St. Louis in the 1920s brought the outside world to this very isolated community and changed everything. And of course, after mining dried up, many residents ventured farther afield to find work too. It’s interesting to hear the reaction of someone who lived through that.”
“How old was she when she died?”
“Twenty-seven. My father would have been fifteen. Four years later, he and his older brother enlisted and went to war.” She shook her head. “I can’t imagine Papa carrying a gun. He was such a gentle soul. But the one positive to come out of his experience was that he met my mother at a USO in St. Louis.”
“Did he bring her back here?”
“No. She died very young of the flu. Not long after that, he built this house and moved back with me.”
“How old were you?”
“Two.”
“So you were living here when you got polio?”
“Yes, but that’s a tale for another day.” Natalie tapped the journal in front of her. “Back to Marie’s story.”
Tempted as Cara was to ask more questions about Natalie’s experience growing up on this remote estate, pushing would be a mistake. If the woman wanted to reveal more, she would.
Cara switched gears. “So far Marie hasn’t offered us any hints about the mystery you referenced.”
“I expect those will come closer to the end. The journals continued until she died. We may begin to pick up clues as we get farther along.”
Natalie went back to translating, and Cara resumed typing.
The insights Marie was providing into the Old Mines culture would form an excellent basis for her research project.
But almost as fascinating?
The history of the woman doing the transcribing, along with the intrigue that might lay in the pages yet to come in the journals.
And wouldn’t it be amazing if in the process of doing this project, she and Natalie also uncovered the solution to a century-old mystery?
WAS THAT CARA TUCKER?
Brad jolted to a stop as he pushed through the door of the courthouse into the humid air.
Shading his eyes, he squinted toward the dark-haired woman who was strolling down the sidewalk on the other side of the street.
Yeah. It was her.
At the sudden uptick in his pulse, he frowned.
Was that little jolt ... attraction?
No way.
Elizabeth had been the only woman for him. His once-in-a-lifetime love. The historical anthropologist who’d taken up residence at Natalie Boyer’s place had just happened to come into his life at the wrong time. The sad anniversary looming in the immediate future, which had caused all his grief and loneliness to bubble close to the surface, had also left him vulnerable—and yearning for things he could never have again.
Things he didn’t deserve to have again.
