When Shadows Fall (35 page)
Slowly, reluctantly, the Callaways sat down.
Eleanor turned to Patrick. "I'm not going to let you take the blame for me anymore. You promised me that tonight we would tell the truth."
"I've told the truth," he argued. "You just don't remember it right, Ellie."
"I do remember that night, Patrick. And I've let you lie to me for forty years. It has to stop now, because we're running out of time, and I can't bear to keep the secret any longer. We've both known all these years that I killed Stan with that frying pan, and you covered it up."
"Is that true, Grandpa?" Colton asked.
Patrick's eyes reflected his anger and frustration, but Eleanor's pointed glance was weakening his resolve. "Yes," he said finally.
Olivia let out the breath she'd been holding. She'd thought that Patrick was protecting Eleanor, but she wasn't sure she'd ever hear him admit it.
Eleanor also looked a bit surprised that her husband had finally spoken the truth.
Patrick shifted in his seat, taking both of his wife's hands in his. "I couldn't let you live the rest of your life feeling guilty for killing Stan, Ellie. And I couldn't let you go to jail for killing a man who would have killed you and Molly and anyone else he could get his hands on."
She nodded. "I knew that's why you told me that you killed him in a fight, but I always knew in my heart it wasn't true. I saw Stan when he fell to the ground. I knew he was dead. I kept thinking that when the police started asking questions, the truth would come out, and I would speak up, but they never came around. Colton told me earlier that that was because Stan was doing some illegal things at work and other cops were involved. They thought that one of them might have killed Stan. Of course I didn't know that at the time."
"I've always wondered," Peter broke in, "why the cops didn't look at my mother's beaten-up face and ask how she'd gotten so badly hurt when she was supposedly baking cookies with you."
"I can answer that," Eleanor said. "I kept Molly away from the police the night of the fire. I said she was hysterical, and she'd taken a sleeping pill. By the time she spoke to the detectives, a good twenty-four hours had passed. Her swelling had gone down, and we were able to cover a lot of her bruises. The truth is the police officers didn't look her in the eye, and the interview was very short."
Eleanor took a breath and then continued. "Molly didn't want an investigation. She didn't want the community to know what kind of a man Stan was. She didn't want to have to put you and Francine on the stand, Peter."
"So everyone had a reason to keep silent," Olivia said, very aware now that she was the center of attention. "The cops, Molly, and the two of you," she said, turning toward Eleanor. "I understand why you did what you did back then—both of you," she added, including Patrick in her statement. "But I guess the question is—what are you going to do now?"
Eleanor and Patrick looked back at her. "I'm going to tell the police what I did," Eleanor said.
"Absolutely not," Patrick said.
"I've actually already told the police," Eleanor said, looking at Emma's husband Max, who was now shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
"I'm just Emma's husband tonight," Max said.
Eleanor smiled. "You're such a good man for her, Max."
Max turned a little red at the compliment and then muttered, "Thanks."
"But I do want to do the right thing," Eleanor said. "I know I might not even remember this decision tomorrow, but I feel I should step up. I should have done it a long time ago. I took the easy way out."
"No, you didn't," Peter interrupted. He got up from his chair and walked over to Eleanor. Then he dropped to one knee so he and Eleanor were at eye level. "You saved my mother. You saved me and my sister." He gave a heavy sigh. "When Olivia came to me and asked me about the fire, I was so sure I remembered it exactly the way it happened, but after I thought about it, other memories started coming back into my head. Hearing your story tonight took me right back to that night."
"I'm sorry, Peter," Eleanor said.
"No, I'm sorry. I did what every other man in my mother's life did—I blamed her instead of the real villain, my father. And that night when he was choking her to death, I was hiding in the closet."
"You were a boy. Please don't blame yourself. Your father is the only one to blame."
"Exactly. He deserved what he got. He started that fire all by himself. And you only hit him because you were defending my mother. The people who needed to know the truth now know it. You're not going to the police. You're not going to put your family or mine through any more pain."
"If that's what you want," Eleanor said slowly.
"It is. I don't want my father to ruin any more lives. This ends tonight."
Eleanor nodded and then opened her arms to Peter.
Olivia was shocked to see her crusty, cold uncle give Eleanor a hug, and for just a moment she saw the boy he'd once been and the loving neighbor who had quite literally saved his life.
As Peter stood up, he said, "I'm going to see my mother now, and I'll reassure her that the past is going to stay in the past—just the way she always wanted." He looked around at the other women and added, "I realize now that the theater group was my mother's way of giving back and doing something good in her life. I didn't like it at the time. It took her away from me and my sister, but now I realize that she needed the group to save her from sinking into depression and guilt. By doing something good for someone else, she had a reason to keep going. Thank you all for that. Good-night."
Murmurs of
goodnight
followed his exit.
"So that's it," Patrick said, getting to his feet. "You now know the secret your grandmother has been trying not to say for the last few years."
"I knew you weren't just rambling, Grandma," Emma said, coming over to give her grandmother a kiss on the cheek. "I thought you were amazing before, but I'm even more impressed now. I think I know where I get my courage."
"That's a sweet thing to say," Eleanor replied.
Olivia looked at Colton as chatter broke out among the various groups in the room. "What do you think?"
"Peter showed incredibly good judgment just now, and I'm glad my grandparents told the truth."
"Your grandfather didn't let Stan die in that fire, Colton. He's still the man you always thought he was."
"No, he's not, because I always thought of him as a hero, but now I realize he's just a man."
"A good man," she said.
He nodded. "Yes, he is."
"He would give his life for your grandmother. I've never seen a man so devoted to the woman he loves."
"Then you aren't looking at me."
Her breath caught in her chest at the intense look in his blue eyes.
"Let's get out of here, Olivia."
"You want to leave your family now?"
"Yes. I've had enough family to last me for a while. I want to spend some time with you." He helped her to her feet and handed her the crutches she would have to use for the next few weeks.
"Should we say goodbye?" she asked.
"Everyone is caught up in conversation. Let's just slip out."
"Okay, lead the way."
He forged a path through the crowded room and then made sure she made it down the stairs on her crutches. Once in the parking lot, he paused. "Instead of going home, let's go across to the beach."
"I don't know how well my crutches will do in the sand."
He gave her a smile. "I'll carry you."
"Well, I can make it across the street. Then you can carry me."
"Deal."
They waited for a car to pass, then walked across the highway. Colton set her crutches to the side and then swept her up into his arms and carried her to a lovely spot on the sand about ten yards from where the waves were landing on the beach.
The sun was sinking below the horizon and the moon was already on the rise, sending dancing lights off the shimmering waves. The wind blew in her face, and as she felt the salty spray on her lips, she remembered Francine's letter and how she'd said she always loved the beach at night.
"I wonder if this is the beach Francine came to when she wrote my letter," Olivia mused as Colton sat down next to her.
"Maybe. She didn't grow up too far from here."
"It's weird that two pages of handwriting can create a connection that will last forever."
"I'm sorry you didn't get to meet her, Olivia."
"Me, too, but I had a good mom, and I actually want you to meet her," she said.
He gave her a speculative look. "You've told her about me?"
"Yes. I told her I was terrified that I was falling for a man who was going to make me worry every time he left the house."
Colton's smile dimmed. "Olivia, about my job—"
"No, wait," she said, putting her fingers over his lips. "Do you want to know what my mom said back to me?"
"Do I?" he countered.
"She said that I should follow my father's lead and live my life with no fear and no regrets, that real love was worth any risk." She paused. "She was right, and everything she said reminded me not only of my dad but also of you. You live with the same sense of fearlessness and passion for life that he did. More importantly, you've made me want to live my life the same way. No more planning and worrying and playing it safe. I don't want to be someone's assistant anymore. I don't want to always be the passenger. I want to drive my own life." As she spoke, she felt a wave of absolute certainty for the direction she wanted to go. "I've decided to quit my job and write my own books."
"That sounds like a good plan," Colton said approvingly.
"I can write anywhere," she said.
"Even San Francisco?"
"Even San Francisco. And you know what else I have planned?"
"Tell me."
"I'm planning to spend a lot of my time dating a really sexy firefighter."
"Now you're talking."
She laughed. "Do you have any plans you want to share with me?"
"Well, I'm more the live-in-the-moment kind of guy, remember?"
"How could I forget? You've shown me some pretty wonderful moments." She tilted her head as his gaze turned serious. "What are you thinking?"
"That you're changing a lot of your life for me."
"Not just for you. For me, Colton, for us. And I don't want you to think that I'm expecting a proposal. I want to spend time with you, to see where this goes. I think we could be good together."
"I know we could be good together. You can move in with me. We'll watch sci-fi movies and make love all night long. And in the mornings we'll go surfing, and maybe you'll learn to love running as much as I do."
"Or maybe you'll enjoy a lazy morning spent reading a good book," she suggested.
"Maybe I will. So you'll move in?"
"I don't know about that. Your apartment is kind of boring. I might want my own place."
He laughed. "I can decorate."
"All evidence to the contrary," she said, smiling back at him. "We'll see. I know I'm going to need some space to write my book."
"Wait. Hold on. Are you going to write Molly's story or my grandparents' story or both?"
She could see the sudden tension around his eyes. "Relax, Colton. I'm not going to spill anyone's secret. I know now that Molly just wanted me to hear her story not to write it. And your grandmother and her friends don't really want to tell the story of their underground railroad, but I can't just let it all pass. I want to do something that will help. I want to pay homage to the bravery and the sacrifice of these women."
He gave her a curious look. "So what are you going to do?"
"Take a page out of your grandmother's book. I'm going to use what I do to help raise money for a women's shelter. I'm going to write a novel or a biography or whatever I can come up with and donate at least half the proceeds to a place that helps women. It will be my way of continuing on with what our grandmothers started."
He nodded approvingly. "I like it. It's a wonderful, generous plan."
"I still have to write something that will sell or my generosity will be very small."
"You will. I believe in you."
"I believe in me, too." She let out a breath. "Anyway, that's the plan. I feel good about it and everything else. I love knowing who I am, even though my biological family is probably not what I would have ordered up, at least I know where I come from. Molly is great. Peter may loosen up, who knows? But most of all, I'm glad I met you, Colton." She paused, thinking that she wanted him to know how she really felt. "You're an amazing man."
He cupped her face with his hands. "And you're an amazing woman. Remember when I told you I never lie?"
"Yes."
"Then you'll know I'm telling the truth when I say I love you." He paused. "And I do love you, Olivia."
She swallowed hard as emotion tightened her throat and chest. "That's a serious statement for a lighthearted guy."
"I know. I've never told a woman I loved her. I knew when I did, I would want it to mean something."
"It means everything," she said, her heart overflowing with love for this man—this man who had literally run through fire for her. And he hadn't just saved her life—he'd changed it completely. "I love you, too, Colton. Will you take me home now?"
"I thought you'd never ask."
He gave her a long, loving kiss, and then they headed for home.
THE END
Dear Reader,
Olivia and Colton's story was so fun to write, and I really enjoyed weaving in the secret that Eleanor has been hiding for so many years. I hope you enjoyed the book, and if you feel inclined to leave a review
here
, I'd appreciate it very much.
Book #8 in the Callaways, SOMEWHERE ONLY WE KNOW, will be released in January of 2015. Burke's story has been brewing in my mind for a while, and I wanted to find just the right woman for him. I can't wait to bring you his book!
I hope you've been enjoying all the other books in the series. Here's what's currently available: