This sickness was in his heart.
And there was only one remedy for that.
He had to follow through on his plan.
“I’m not ill, Natalie. Not in the way you mean. But I do have ... I have a confession to make.”
“A confession?” Her eyebrows peaked again. “What sort of confession?”
Much as he wanted to look away, he forced himself to maintain eye contact. “The fire in your kitchen was my fault.”
Shock flattened her features. “What are you talking about?”
“I started it—but I didn’t mean for it to get out of control. That was never my intent.”
A few beats ticked by as she stared at him. “I’m sorry. This isn’t making sense. The fire didn’t start until after you were gone.”
“I know, but I burned that potholder on purpose when I went to the kitchen to get some extra napkins after I spilled my tea. I put it in the trash with embers still glowing, expecting it to catch fire fast. I knew the detector in the kitchen would go off at the first hint of smoke, and I was going to help you put the fire out. I didn’t think it would cause any real damage, since it was contained in the trash can. When nothing happened, I assumed the embers had been snuffed out. I had no idea there were any active sparks that would ignite later. The odds of combustion after such a long delay have to be minuscule.”
Her face was a study in bewilderment. “But ... I don’t understand. Why would you do such a thing?”
“I hoped it might add weight to my argument that Marie’s journals would be safer with me.”
She blinked. “You did all that just to protect the journals?”
Untwisting his fingers, he flexed his blanched knuckles and dipped his chin. “There was more to it than that.”
“I’d like to hear about it.”
“It has to do with Dan.”
“Go on.” Her voice was steady.
“You know how dirty politics is these days. I was afraid there would be information in the journals that could be used to smear the Coleman name.”
“What kind of information?”
Paul swallowed. “You know there were rumors about Marie’s death.”
“Yes. I also know my father never believed the accidental ruling was accurate. Do you have information to suggest it was more than that?”
“Nothing concrete. Only family lore that was passed down to me by my father. The story was that my grandfather, who was also in politics, had a long-running affair with a local woman whenever he was in town. My father heard his parents arguing about it once. After Marie died in such a tragic way, my father overheard another row between his parents. According to him, my grandfather denied having anything to do with her death, but my father wasn’t certain my grandmother ever believed that. They stayed together for propriety’s sake, but their marriage was over except in name.”
“Was any of this shared with the authorities at the time?”
“Not that I know of. I first heard the story a few years ago, while my father was in his final days in hospice, and he didn’t offer anything more than what I’ve told you. But there may be clues in Marie’s journals that would implicate my grandfather in her death. If that information is shared with the wrong people, it could be used to smear the family name. I don’t care for myself, but Dan doesn’t deserve to have his career ruined by the misdeeds of long-dead relatives. He’s worked hard all his life, and he’ll be a fine congressman. I did what I did to protect him, but in hindsight I realize I made bad choices.”
Natalie took a deep breath. Leaned back in her chair. Studied him. “Does Dan know about any of this? Or Becky?”
“Not yet. I went to see Father Johnson before I came here, and we had a long talk about the situation. I do plan to tell Becky tonight.” He massaged the bridge of his nose. “I’m here to ask your forgiveness for the fire and for my attempts to convince you to give me the journals. Instead of taking matters into my own hands, I should have asked you and the professor to keep any damaging information confidential.”
“And I would have. You know me well enough, Paul, to know I would never share personal information with anyone. I feel confident you can trust Cara too. She’s a woman of integrity, discretion, and high standards.”
There was no recrimination in her tone, but the truth of her response stung nonetheless. He should have trusted her.
What a fool he’d been.
“I’m sorry, Natalie. For everything I did, and for ruining a friendship I’ve cherished.” He stared at the carpet beneath his feet, fighting to get the words past the constriction in his throat. “If you want me to call the sheriff and turn myself in for the fire, I will. I’ll also pay the cost of any damages. I’ll do whatever it takes to make amends. All I ask is that you give me this evening to talk with Becky.”
