The Architect (Contemporary Clover Lake Grooms Book 1) Page 7

  She hadn’t told Jarred her thoughts, though they’d spoken as often as possible. She decided to surprise him. She pulled her car in behind his giant truck, and as soon as the engine was off, hopped out. He was standing beside her car, holding the door open for her. “Welcome home.”

  The words hovered over her for a moment before fully settling in as they stood there staring at each other. Phoebe was a little unsure of herself. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the fact that his words had shaken her. She was thrown off kilter. She didn’t even see it coming. She was dazed and looking over Jarred’s shoulder at the water behind him. He’d leaned forward and captured her mouth. Phoebe’s gasp of surprise got caught between them. Jarred’s firm but soft lips moved against hers, squashing the unease between them and making her forget all about her surprise as she lifted her arms around his neck to weave her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. When his lips slowed and she felt him start to pull away, she tightened her grip and took over, her lips now commanding his. She put everything she had into that kiss. All the questions, all her revelations, and all the hope she had, as well as all the fear. Jarred responded, pulling her against his body and turning them so she was pressed between him and the car. She felt safe. Protected.

  Jarred had enjoyed the last few days, talking and messaging with Phoebe. They’d been getting to know one another again, and it had been just as seamless as it had been all those years ago. He’d spent the morning twitching. Waiting for her to arrive. The moment he’d seen her pull into the driveway, he needed his hands on her. Now that he had her there, he didn’t want to let her go. He needed to convince her to stay.

  In between their chats and messaging, he’d spent his time coming up with a plan for the lake. He’d thought that maybe if he could come up with something spectacular, he could get her to stay for the lake, even if he couldn’t convince her to stay for him.

  He’d drawn up plans that would update the spa into a full service facility, one worthy of Hollywood celebrities. He’d met a few in his time with the firm and knew that a good getaway was priceless to someone who forever had a camera in their face. The golf course was running well, but he had a few ideas for renovations to the course, upgrading carts and some of the greens, but also to the restaurant. The restaurant was the fanciest place in town, and though the food was delicious, he thought that a revamp of the menu and a spruce in the dinning room would help to draw in a younger crowd. The small cabins were rustic, and with the addition of very little, he was sure he could sell them out quickly with the right marketing campaign. Then there were the camp grounds. He wanted to turn half of them into glamping sites. He’d even started to build the first tent so he could show it to Phoebe. But he had another surprise first.

  Reluctantly, he pulled away from her, but kept as little space between them as he could. It felt right with her close, and he loved that she had taken over their kiss. Phoebe sighed as he held her loosely in his arms. He swallowed hard as the thought of telling her, of asking her, about that night made him nervous. “I forgot all about it, but there’s a thing tonight that I promised I’d attend.”

  She smiled. “Oh, yeah?” She wiggled between him and the car. He wasn’t sure if it was because she could tell he was uncomfortable or if it was because she had the metal against her back. He stepped back, pulling her with him. He kissed her quickly and softly before taking her hand and turning them toward the house. “Yeah. Tonight’s the rival lacrosse game, and they asked me to do the announcing.”

  The air around them changed. Phoebe’s hand got cold. “Okay,” she said very quietly.

  “I’d really love it if you’d come with me.”

  She hesitated. She was still walking slowly and still very quiet when she finally answered. “Alright.”

  Though his heart slowed at her words. He was excited she was willing to come. He was also desperate to know what she was thinking. He stopped, putting pressure on her hand, causing her to stop too. He pulled her toward him. “What are you thinking?” He stared into her eyes. Searching.

  She shook her head. Her eyes were watery, lips pursed.

  He tugged her closer still, bringing her body against his. He wrapped his hands over her hips. “Please? Remember what we said the other night?”

  Jarred took a chance, reminding her of their conversation the other night could backfire, but he wanted her to know how committed he was to making things work this time. He watched as her eyes brightened. She remembered, he could tell.

  “What did we say?”

  A small, very small smile threatened to turn up the outer edges of her mouth. “We said we’d always communicate.”

  He smiled and kissed her softly. “Yes, we did, and I can tell something’s upset you. Please tell me.” He knew exactly what had upset her, but he didn’t want to assume anything. He also wanted her to feel like she could come to him with anything. They needed that. Their relationship needed that. If they’d been together longer, had trusted each other more, hadn’t been kids that had kept everything to themselves to make sure they didn’t look stupid in front of their friends, who knew what could have happened. All he did know was that he didn’t want to take chances this time. He wanted no barriers between them.

  “The game. I’m not sure I should go.” The strength had returned to her voice. He was glad.

  “Why not?” That was not the response he’d been expecting. This was a perfect example of why keeping your mouth shut worked sometimes.

  She tilted her head. “Because. We’re doing so well, moving forward. I’m not sure that venturing into the past is the best idea.” Her eyes didn’t leave his the entire time she was speaking. They darted back and forth following his. “Sometimes I feel like a completely different person than I was then, and sometimes I need that separation. I feel like being with you now, I’m with the you of now, rather than then. I’m afraid of what could happen if I confuse the two.”

  Jarred listened to each word, not sure if he should argue or try to convince her that things we different now. The past was just that, the past. It didn’t have an impact on the now. But then he thought more about it as she leaned forward and kissed him. The woman had a hold on him that he hadn’t seen coming. He wanted to be with her more than he could remember wanting anything. So when they finally broke apart and he caught his breath, he told her. “If that’s what you want, then that’s what we’ll do.” He pulled her tighter against his body. He could feel her every curve. He could even feel her heart beating against his. “But know this…at some point, we’re going to have to reconcile the pieces of our pasts, because I want to be with you wholly, and that girl, the one who first showed me the magic of this lake, along with that boy…” He shook his head. He truly hated that he’d hurt her. And as he thought about it, he realized it was not just her, but other girls as well. How many had he taken advantage of? Not physically but emotionally. “…that stupid, stupid boy who hurt you, they’re both a part of that.”

  Jarred’s words rang in her ears and settled uncomfortably over her skin, causing bumps to form on her flesh. She had spent a lot of time and energy separating herself from the girl she was way back then. She didn’t want to go back. She couldn’t. One day she’d find a way to explain it to Jarred properly, but in the meantime, she tugged on his hand and towed him into the house.

  Opening the door disturbed the staleness of the house. The stillness shifted, tossing dust mites swirling in the air. The absence of her grandmother was overwhelming as she took that first step into the house. She choked on the breath she tried to take. Coughing, she focused on the weight of Jarred’s hand in her own. He was with her. She wasn’t alone. Then she spotted the box she’d left on the table, the one that held all the letters and journals of her ancestors. She saw the white gown draped over the dining table chair. Though it was yellowing and not as shiny as it had once been, it had a story, and as she fought to calm herself, it whispered to her. She wasn’t alone. She’d never been alone and never would b
e.

  Jarred wrapped his arms around her from behind as she stared at the things she’d found. “See that box?” Jarred nodded against her cheek. “And the dress?”

  “Yeah.” He dropped his arms and walked around to face her.

  “I found them under the floorboards the other day.”

  Jarred’s eyes got big and round. “Under the…floorboards?”

  “Yeah. I almost tripped, and when I was trying to figure out why, I realized one was loose. When I wiggled it, it came out and beneath it was all that stuff.”

  “Whoa…”

  Phoebe nodded. “Yeah. That was kind of an understatement.”

  Jarred turned away from her and went to the box. He ran his hands over the decorative lid. “Do you think Rosalind knew about it?”

  Phoebe shrugged. “She never mentioned it, but part of me thinks she knew. The tie she had to this place went further than blood obligation.” Phoebe followed Jarred and picked up the dress. “The history mattered to her. She was a part of this place, just like they were.”

  Jarred turned to look at her. When their eyes connected, she felt her stomach fall. She knew what he was going to say. But it couldn’t be true. She was only there because she’d had to be. Her mother hadn’t belonged there. She’d only returned because she had no other choice, and Phoebe’d had to stay because of her mother’s choices. The land hadn’t claimed them the way it had Rosalind, Lorraine, and the others.

  “They go back generations, all the way to the very first family that lived on this land. They built the house we’re standing in.”

  Jarred lifted the lid on the box. Phoebe thought about telling him not to, but then she realized something. Something big. Something her grandmother had realized before her. He had just as much right to lift the lid on that box as she did. Maybe even more so. He needed to know the history. Needed to be a part of it all, because what Phoebe had been missing the whole time was that, though the land hadn’t claimed her, it had claimed him.

  The implications of that were huge. Admitting it to herself made her feel strong and connected but also separate. Generations of women had passed Clover Lake on to another, each taking a groom and making it their home. She couldn’t help but wonder if that was what was happening between her and Jarred. Maybe that’s how the women in her family knew that the men they were with were the ones they should stay with; they had a connection to the land. Phoebe thought harder about that in combination with what her grandmother had done. Maybe everyone except her had known that Jarred was the one.

  They spent the day together on the couch, reading through some of the letters. The journals were what held Phoebe’s attention though. They helped her to connect with the family she’d spent her life hearing about. Made them more real. It was an odd feeling growing up with this deep sense of history but not having anyone to share it with. She had very distant cousins, but she’d only seen them once or twice in her entire life. Her mother had been an only child and she had been as well.

  January 1903

  I’ve been missing Charlotte more and more. I couldn’t be happier that she found someone to share her life with, but a large part of me wishes that they could have stayed here, at Clover Lake with us. Charlotte was my link to home. She was my link to everything in the past. I’ve been feeling anchorless without her. Milo says that I’ll be a wonderful mother and that I won’t forget to teach our child the ways of my homeland, but I’m not sure I believe him. Milo is the very best man. I’ve been blessed and have been looked after. I can’t imagine what my life would have been like had I married Theodore. Though I also can’t imagine my life without Adele. I’m so grateful for every experience I’ve had since the moment I first saw the shore of America from Boston Harbor.

  Phoebe smiled as she read. She’d known she was descended from royalty. She had been told more than once that her great-great-great-grandmother had come to America after being promised to a wealthy businessman’s son for marriage. She also knew that she hadn’t married that businessman’s son. She’d married Milo Murphy, the man who built the house they were currently in.

  “I wish I could stay.”

  Phoebe loved the way it felt to be in Jarred’s arms. It had been so long since she’d felt the kind of security she felt in those moments.

  “You’re sure you won’t come with me?” He looked down at her with a smirk on his face. “I know how much you love sports.” He winked and it made her heart flutter.

  Phoebe laughed and pressed her cheek against his chest, removing the small distance between them. She shook her head as best she could without giving up her contact with him. “I think I’ll pass, but I’ll be home after if you want to stop by.”

  Jarred leaned away from her so her head would have no choice but to lift from his chest. He closed in and kissed her. “Wait up.” He winked again, and before she knew it, he was out the door. Her body felt cold without his heat. She made her way back to the couch and the journal she’d been flipping through. She’d decided not to read every page. Not in order. Maybe she would someday, but right now, she felt like she needed answers, and she needed them quickly. She was hoping to gain some wisdom from the old dusty pages.

  March 1903

  There isn’t a day that passes that I don’t think of my homeland and my family, but this place is where I was meant to be. I can feel it in every bone. The land. The lake. Milo. They were all here waiting for me without me even knowing. I’m thankful daily that something bigger than me knew better than I did. I’m thankful for each event and decision that brought me to this place, and as I watch my belly grow and feel our baby kick, I can’t wait to raise a family here. We’re building more than a farm; we’re building a legacy.

  Phoebe was sure she should be moved by the words of her long ago ancestor, and she was but not in the way she’d hoped. She didn’t feel the things she’d wanted to feel. She wanted to find a connection. Something, anything even, that would let her feel something for the place other than the attachment she had because it was where she’d grown up. That it was Gram’s and that she had loved it.

  She set down Lorraine’s journal and started to filter through the letters. There were many more of them. Some older. Some not so much. She tried to separate them by the look and feel of the paper, thinking that if she started with something newer, maybe she’d find what she’d been looking for. She had a larger stack of old withered paper than she did the newer stuff. But in her hand at the moment was a piece of paper that was still bright white. It had to be the newest thing in the box. She wondered briefly how it had gotten mixed in so thoroughly with the others that she hadn’t noticed it right away.

  Phoebe set the rest down and took a breath before she unfolded the paper. She was sure it was going to be either to or from her Gram. She exhaled as she lifted the first flap and saw the date and addressee’s name.

  Mom, March 18, 2000

  She covered her mouth with her free hand as a gasp escaped. It was not at all what she’d expected. It was in her mother’s handwriting and was dated almost exactly a month from when she died. She slowly unfolded the rest of the letter as she gathered her composure and read the letter.

  Mom, March 18, 2000

  As I write this, my precious Phoebe lies beside me, and I wish I could take back so much. There have been few defining moments in my life. The most important was the day that my angel was born. The ache to have the ability to say that her birthday was also the most impactful on my life is strong, but alas you and I both know that isn’t true. Despite that and through everything, you’ve been there for me, and I want to tell you that I love you more than words and I’m so very sorry.

  I wish I’d been a better daughter. I wish I could be half the mother to Phoebe that you’ve been to me. Which is why I’m doing this. I have to leave. She’s better off with you. The way I live is no way for a child to have to see their parent. There is too much suffering, and she deserves better than this. I’ve never been more at peace with myself than I have
been at the lake, and I want that for her too.

  So please, teach her the way you taught me. Be there for her the way you were and still are for me. And when she’s old enough, explain to her why I had to do this. Explain to her that, though you were the best parents a girl could ask for, and I wanted for nothing and was very loved, that I wasn’t cut out for that life. I’ve known it from the time I was very small. I always had the calling to escape. It was that call that led me down the dangerous road I’ve been on. It’s time for you to not worry about me anymore. Focus on Phoebe. Remember I love you always, and please take care of my little girl.

  Love,

  Winnie

  Tears were streaming down Phoebe’s face. Her chest ached with the thrusts of the hiccups she was having after sucking in so much air. Her eyes were swollen, and though she couldn’t see them, she knew they were red, because she could feel the raw sting of the few tears she had left as they cascaded over her eyelids. She’d read the letter five times before she stopped. She wiped her face, unable to fully comprehend what she’d been reading.

  She was angry at herself for not remembering. Her mother had left her before she’d died. She hadn’t even realized. The last memory she had of the two of them together was of them planting watermelon seeds in a secret corner of the small patch of trees in the middle of the yard. Her gram had said that watermelon vines would kill their pepper plants, but her mother had snuck her away to plant them, knowing they were her favorite. She’d spent the months after tending to them. Even after her mother had passed. She remembered how her gram had smiled the first time she’d brought a fresh cut watermelon into the kitchen. They’d laughed and cried together, remembering her mother.

  But now she knew. Her mother had chosen the drugs. There had been a part of her that had known all along, but the letter she held made it impossible to ignore. She found herself shivering and wishing that she’d found that particular letter when Jarred was there. She missed him, wished he was there, not to lend her strength but just to break up the silence. It had become eerie in the room since she’d calmed down. Like the house knew she had found the secret.