With love, Colin
Chapter Thirty-Nine
A Box Full of Confusion
Nora’s pulse quickened as she reread the line for the third time: “She is very kind and has been reading to me from Cora’s book.”Could it be the same book?she thought. How had she ended up with the very same book as Colin? She had found it at the mysterious little bookstore, snugly wedged between the bookshelf and the wall.
Marjorie was Colin’s sister. That meant the cottage had been her great-aunt’s. What on earth was going on here? Betty Shortbridge was right. Fate had certainly played its hand of cards, in more ways than one.
Nora’s eyes fixed on Alistair, and she quickly noticed a mixture of surprise and disbelief across his face. “Wait, I might be confused, but is this saying that the woman who used to live inthis cottage was the sister of the man you think is your biological grandfather?”
“It looks that way. How crazy is that?”
“It’s mental. Talk about coincidences. The fact that you ended up renting this place without knowing that has got to be more than a one-in-a-million chance.”
An unease sat heavy in her gut. There was something more to this, something beyond chance. She could sense it like a subtle whisper in the wind. “It’s strange. It’s almost as if...” She trailed off, glancing at the old books and the mysterious atmosphere of the cottage.
Alistair raised an eyebrow. “Almost as if what?”
As if something wanted me here, she thought before dismissing the idea. “Never mind. Let’s read another letter and see if it unravels any more of this mystery.” She picked the next letter out of the box as the feeling of something otherworldly lingered in the air.
“Answers and possibly more surprises as well,” Alistair said, flipping through the stack of letters in the old shoebox. “There has to be a dozen in here.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready for any more surprises just yet. I already have to figure out how to tell my father about this one,” she said, pointing down at the name MacDonald on the letter she held in her hands.
Alistair looked thoughtful. “If you wouldn’t mind, I could help you read through them?” His eyes met hers, pulling her in, as if she had looked into them a thousand times. Nora sensed this was his way of making amends for the previous night. She smiled and nodded, silently accepting his offer.
“We better make some more tea if we are going to conquer that stack,” he said, getting up and limping over to the stove.
“Are you feeling better?” Nora asked, noticing the color returning to his cheeks.
He met her gaze and smiled. “Okay, you win. That greasy breakfast grilled cheese thingy hit the spot, and I am feeling a bit better.”
“I’m not going to say I told ya so,” she joked, turning back to the letter in her hands. When she glanced up at him, their eyes locked as a thick silence fell over the room. The longing she felt deep within her core each time their eyes met returned, but it was more than just lust, though that did admittedly play a part. Rather, it was something much deeper. She had never experienced this kind of feeling with Sam. Come to think of it, Sam had never kissed her as passionately as Alistair had last night. Just thinking about their kiss made her long for a repeat.
As if Alistair had read her thoughts, he said, “Hey, I want to apologize for last night. I had a lot to drink and tried to stop your panic attack and—”
“I get it. Don’t worry. I didn’t think it was anything serious anyway. Just a drunken bit of passion,” Nora interrupted him. His eyes held a mix of regret and gratitude, and he smiled.
“I’m not apologizing for kissing you. I am apologizing for not saying good night after the whole toe thing. I felt like a complete asshole all night afterward. It wasn’t anything to do with you. It was more me feeling like an idiot for messing up what we had going,” Alistair explained.
Nora was stunned; she had assumed he was regretting their almost-tryst, not that he hadn’t said good night to her. She wasn’t used to this type of openness from a guy, especially not a guy like him. He just kept surprising her.
“It’s fine, really, but can I ask how you knew kissing me would stop my panic attack?” Nora inquired, genuinely curious.
“Not sure. Somehow I just knew it would help,” Alistair replied, his tone uncertain yet sincere.
“Well, I’m glad you did it because it worked,” Nora said with a smile. They shared an understanding that went beyond words, and the tension between them finally began to fade.
Alistair had prepared two piping cups of hot tea, but Nora came around and carried them over to their seats. She pulled her chair closer to him so he could rest his injured foot on the bottom rung before they delved back into the box of letters.
“We should sort them by date,” Alistair suggested, taking the first letter they had read and placing it on the kitchen island.
“That’s not a bad idea,” Nora agreed.
She grabbed the stack of letters from the box and arranged them in a line in front of them. Within a few minutes, they had them sorted chronologically. The first letter was postmarked 04/12/1943, preceding the one they had already read. In total, thirteen letters sat before them, with the last one appearing to be a formal communication from the War Office. That one was not going to be an easy letter to read, Nora anticipated.
She pulled the first one in the line from its envelope, the smell of old paper and stale cigarettes clinging to it. She unfolded the paper, the once crisp ink having dulled to a dusty blue that had soaked into the fibers, making certain words a bit harder to read.
