Dark Beach (24 page)

I love you, little girl.
I’m not perfect, but I’ll do my best
to protect you
. It was the truth.

She slipped her other hand in her pocket, feeling the metal shape there, small and odd-shaped. Something she had been putting off.
She hadn’t been back up to the hex room since that night. No one had, except for the police. The wind whistled in through the shattered glass.

But Gerry had said the key was for up there.
This belongs to something.

She led Kip inside, finding Molly Coggington and John the locksmith deep in conversation on the sofa. “Molly, can you watch her for a moment?”

“Of course.” Mrs. Coggington held out her arms and Kip crawled into them, smiling.

Jenny climbed the stairs to the hex room, her heart heavy. She glanced around. Apart from the windows, it looked the same as ever. One picture was still missing on a wall packed with them. Barney. She focused on the blank spot for a moment, noticing that the white wooden boards appeared slightly uneven.

Jenny ran her hand over them, tapped the wall. There was a hollow spot. She slid her nails in between the crack of the long thin board; it loosened slightly. She did it again. It gave way. Pictures above and below toppled from the wall, crashing down the staircase.

Jenny squeezed her hand through and felt around. There was something in there—something thin and hard. She gripped it and retrieved a thin metal box, locked. Fumbling in her pocket, she pulled out the key, slipped it into the keyhole, and turned. Two envelopes sat inside. The first was dated several years ago. The other fifteen years ago. Both had an official seal on the back.

With trembling hands, she opened the older envelope first.

The Will & Wishes of Geraldine Rose James

Everything that I own after the passing of my dear husband shall pass to my only daughter. I have nothing else to say other than, if you are reading this now, my dear Rachael, I ask that you take care of the things that filled my days. I love you very much. I will always be with you. In death, comes birth. Don’t be sad, and think of me happy in other places. We will meet again.

Jenny dropped the letter, her hands caressing her swollen belly, the baby inside. She opened the newer envelope.

Addendum

The Will & Wishes of Geraldine Rose James

This is the addendum to my first will. I went through my years loving only one man until I met Barney Suther. He has comforted me in my darkest hours. As my mind escapes me, I must write this before it is gone and missed. Rachael, I know you never enjoyed the beach house. I want Barney have it. To live there. He is my fisherman, my man of the sea. I love him as I loved my first. My house belongs to him.

“Oh no…”

Jenny tucked the letters back in the envelopes.

“This is
his
house, after all.”

TEN

Jenny glanced up to see Kurt, in his usual happy plaid, approaching up the beach. A tear stung her cheek in the salty wind. Wiping it away, she stood. “What are you doing here?”

“Come on, come with me,” he grabbed her hand, leading her down to the beach, into the wind. “I needed to talk to you. Where you been?” he asked.

They stood in silence and awe at the soft yellow sky lined with rippled, rapidly thinning charcoal clouds.

“In bed—resting.”

“I had to tell you.”

“What?” she turned to face him.

“The lawyer called, Gerry’s will—”

“I know.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. I found the wills in the hex room. She wanted him to have it.”

He said nothing, just looked puzzled. His hair ruffled in the light breeze.

Jenny smiled and took Kurt’s strong hand in hers. “I have news for you.”

“What? You staying?”

“No … absolutely not.” They both laughed awkwardly.

“Then what?”

“Turn around.” Jenny pulled him around to look back at the beach house. “You see that little place there?” She pointed to the beach house. “It’s yours.”

He looked at it a minute. “I suppose so. Dad willed everything to me,” he said finally. “But I don’t want it. Do you think she’d mind terribly if—”

“It’s your house,” she interrupted.

“
When you leave,” Kurt said quietly, gesturing to the house. “I’ll call the cops—tell them why he did it, what he said about Mom. They might want to talk to you. I imagine they’ll want those journals, and to search the house and yard for...”

She took up his hand again, squeezed it. “Here,” she said. Taking back her hand, she held it up and tugged the ruby ring off her finger. “It was your mother’s.”

“Keep it,” he said. “I want you to have to it.”

Jenny looked at him. “Kurt, I can’t. You know that.” She twisted her wedding ring subconsciously.

“Give it to Kip, then,” Kurt said. “When she’s older.”

Jenny smiled and slipped it back in her pocket. “That I can do.”

They sat in silence.

“I’m thinking of bulldozing the house,” Kurt said after a while. “Making a memorial garden; maybe with some sculpture. I was thinking a whale.” He winked.

“No way,” Jenny said.

“Way,” he said, his eyes crinkling into a smile.

She smiled back. “Ron and Rachael know it’s yours anyway. Not much to be done about it, I suppose. I need you to do one thing for me, though.”

“What?”

“Did you see Gerry’s will?”

“No,” he shook his head. “Only Dad’s.”

“Well, I want you take her will out to your father’s graveside. I want you to read it to him. He needs to hear what it said.”

“What did it say?”

“That he was loved.”

Kurt sighed and turned to face her.

“I see,” he said, taking her hand. “You want to move in with me, then?”

“Oh Kurt,” said Jenny, and hugged him tight.

* * *

Seven months later…

“Push! Push!”

A piercing cry rang out. “It’s a boy!”

“A boy!” cried Ron.

The baby, wrapped in a worn blue hospital blanket, was placed on Jenny’s heaving chest.

“A boy,” she said, tears misting her eyes.

She took the wet, blanket-wrapped boy in her arms and kissed his perfect upturned nose.

“What shall we name him?” Ron asked, leaning over her shoulder to get a good look at the little guy.

“What do you think?” she asked, examining the baby quizzically.

“You know what? I was thinking maybe Kurt?”

“Kurt?” Jenny looked up at Ron, startled.

“Yeah, Kurt. You know, the fisherman who saved Kip.”

“Kurt,” she said, slowly. It had been so long since she’d said his name.

“Yes, Kurt. It has to be.” Ron nodded.

“No,” Jenny said finally.

“Why not?” he asked, sounding miffed but too happy to argue.

“From death comes birth,” Jenny answered. “How about Jerry? Oh, but I like Kurt too. We’ll flip a coin.”

There once was a beach. . . and it was dark. . . but the sun rose.

Author Lauren Ash

Lauren Ash lives in Seattle spending her time exploring the Emerald City.

She enjoys writing dark poetry as well as novels. You will find her sitting by the fire, sipping on tea while brewing up a great tale.

http://authorlaurenash.blogspot.com/

More from this Author:

The Emerald Night Series