Echoes of Titanic (24 page)

Despite the fact that Grandpa Jonah was well off, he lived in a modest way, his needs few and his home small but comfortable. Situated on oceanfront property worth well over a million dollars, the house itself was essentially
worthless, comparatively speaking, and he couldn't have cared less. These days he spent most of his time advocating for causes related to his fellow merchant marine veterans from World War II. When he wasn't doing that, he could usually be found across the street, sitting on the beach in his favorite grimy old canvas chair, surf fishing for bluefish and striped bass. As the sign that hung in his kitchen proclaimed:

Years ago Kelsey had asked him what that meant, and with uncharacteristic seriousness he had replied, “Let go of your hurts, your grudges, and any possessions that aren't a necessity. Hang on to your memories, your loved ones, and most of all your faith. Do that, Little Bit, and your life will be more rewarding than you could ever imagine.”

Those in the family whose entire worlds revolved around money—the investing of money, the accruing of money—had trouble understanding his perspective, but his was a life of such peace and simplicity that they had to respect him for it nonetheless. Grandpa Jonah lived quietly down here in the sunny, loamy, salty world of the Jersey Shore, and he really was the happiest, most contented person she had ever known. That said a lot for his lifestyle—and often left her questioning her own after almost every visit.

His spare bedroom had a window facing the ocean, but because of the raised boardwalk across the street and the tall sand dunes beyond, the water wasn't actually visible. Kelsey settled into that room now and changed into more comfortable clothes. The walls there bore a collection of nautical mementos, not the kind to be had in a gift shop but the real deal. A mounted brass cleat held a robe, and between a faded old maritime flag and a framed photograph of Jonah's last ship sat a sturdy shelf sporting a compass, several fancy jade boxes he'd picked up in foreign ports, and an old copper ship lantern. On the opposite wall hung a framed map of the Atlantic Ocean and some old navigational charts.

Once Kelsey was settled into the guest room, she went out to the kitchen, where her grandfather was pulling food from the refrigerator and setting it out onto the counter.

“Bacon and eggs all right for supper?” he asked.

It was only five o'clock and she wasn't hungry yet, but she grinned just the same.

“I love it when you make me breakfast for supper. What should I do—set the table?”

“That'd be fine.” The old sailor whistled as he went about fixing their dinner. Once the bacon began to sizzle on the stove, Kelsey laid the table for two and took out bread for toast. As she worked she couldn't help but think about how ironic it was that the son of a woman who had nearly perished on
Titanic
had devoted his life to the sea. Then again, Adele had always been one to confront things head-on. After all, by naming her son Jonah, hadn't she been stubbornly refusing to let that sea get the best of her in the first place?

“What else can I do?” Kelsey asked, setting out the butter dish.

“Sit down and take it easy,” he replied.

She pulled out a chair at the maple drop leaf table and sat, only then realizing how tired she was despite her nap on the train.

“Tell me about all this brouhaha on the news,” he said as he cracked some eggs in a bowl. “I know you didn't come all the way down here just for the free omelet. What's going on, Little Bit?”

Kelsey sighed. “It's a mess, Grandpa. What have you heard so far?”

“Just what I've seen on the news, and then your brother called me this morning and filled me in some more. Sounds like one of our Brennan cousins came to a big event at your office yesterday and stood up and yelled at you, making all kinds of crazy accusations.”

“That's about right.”

“Too bad he ruined your party. Matt said you were being given some big award or something.”

She glanced down, about to show him her Quarter Club pin but then realized it was in the bedroom, still clipped to her jacket.

“Yeah, well, it wasn't that big of a deal. All I care about at this point is figuring out the truth about my great-grandmother.” She didn't add that she also wanted to know how Gloria had really died and why. The thought of that was so overwhelming that she was going to stick with the Adele stuff for now. “Please tell me there's no truth to that story about Jocelyn stealing Adele's identity when the ship sank. Can you?”

He turned and set a plate of bacon on the table. “I can try. Nolan told me all about this fella the last time he made a fuss. I don't believe a word of it.”

“You don't?” Hope and relief filled Kelsey's heart. “Is that just a feeling, or do you
know?
”

“Just a feeling.” He must have seen how her face fell because he quickly
added, “She was my mother, Kelsey. Everything I ever knew about her tells me she was a truthful person. I honestly don't believe she could have assumed someone else's identity. Adele Brennan Tate could not have been the person she was and lived the life she lived if that life had been based on a lie.” He turned back to the stove for the eggs.

“It does me good to hear you say that. Dad seemed to have some doubts. I don't know what to think anymore or how we can possibly prove it either way. According to my boss, DNA testing isn't an option.”

“You don't need any fancy tests to know the truth,” Jonah replied.

“Then why are there still doubts about this stuff? How could my own father think it's true?”

Jonah sat down and shook out his napkin, his shoulders looking surprisingly narrow and small as he placed it in his lap. The dear man was showing his age, and his weathered face bespoke the years he'd spent out in the sun and wind. Thank goodness his wits were as sharp and clear as they had ever been.

“Let's pray,” he said gently. “Then you can tell me about your friend Gloria.”

He reached out and clasped Kelsey's hand and bowed his head. She bowed hers as well with mixed feelings of frustration and nostalgia. Once upon a time, she'd thought she had a faith in God every bit as strong as her grandfather's. And though she'd never had a big moment where she'd renounced that faith or intentionally turned her back on God, somehow she had slowly moved Him into the background of her life—until He had disappeared from it entirely.

Why had she let that happen? Had it been yet another facet of her breakup with Cole, part of that slow descent into unfeelingness that her mother had accused her of this morning? Doreen had called Kelsey an automaton, a shell. Automatons and shells didn't have souls. But she did, and suddenly, in this tiny kitchen filled with the smell of bacon and the distant cry of seagulls and the sight of the most faith-filled person she'd ever known, that soul felt unprotected and alone, like a little girl standing barefoot in the snow and peering in through a window at a cozy, warm room with a fire in the hearth. For the first time in a long, long time, a part of Kelsey wanted to go into that room. How odd that until this moment she hadn't even realized how cold the snow was around her feet.

“Our mighty God,” Grandpa said with soft reverence, and Kelsey's heart twisted. She missed this.

“We come before You in humility,” Jonah went on. “You are the One
who knows all. You are in control of this fallen world. Lord, help our Kelsey to see some sense in what's going on around her. Give her an extra measure of Your wisdom. Help her in the many decisions she has to make. We thank You for this food, and for Your grace, and for all Your many good gifts to us. Amen.”

“Amen,” Kelsey whispered, tears blurring her vision. She blinked them away and picked up her fork.

“So,” Grandpa said when she'd had a few bites of crispy bacon and perfectly cooked eggs. “Tell me about Gloria.”

“I miss her so much. Did you know her? I can't remember.”

He shrugged. “I met her once or twice at company parties Mother or Nolan dragged me to, but I don't recall that we interacted much.”

“She was a genius when it came to business, Grandpa. Well, maybe not as good as Great-Grandma Adele, but she was very good. So professional and intelligent. I looked up to her. She trained me. She taught me so much.”

“Was she well liked?”

“Um, I guess. I mean, she was always very professional, not what anyone might call chummy, but she was nice and decent and helpful. People liked her well enough.”

“Seems Nolan told me she wasn't happy when he brought that Walter guy in.”

“No, she wasn't,” Kelsey said. “She stayed on, though, so I assumed she got over it. I
thought
she had remained loyal to the company to the end.”

Grandpa eyed her keenly. “Thought?”

Kelsey sighed. “Today I did some digging and learned a few things that surprised me. As it turns out, Gloria knew Rupert Brennan was going to come to the ceremony yesterday but didn't do anything to stop it. I thought that was bad enough, but then I learned that
she
was the one who encouraged him to come there in the first place! I was shocked. Now I don't know what to think.”

“Maybe that's why she killed herself. Remorse for hurting the company and people she cared about, like you?”

Kelsey pressed her lips together for a moment. “Maybe.
If
she killed herself. Though she may have been murdered, you know.”

He grunted, his fork poised in midair. “They said that on the news, but I just thought they were being sensationalistic.”

She exhaled deeply. “No, that's a possibility. The police won't say, and I
don't know what to think. For now I'm just biding my time, hoping we'll have more answers soon. Until then I'm going with suicide. I can't bear to think about the alternative.”

He nodded, seeming to understand. “Either way, Kelsey, I'm really sorry all this has happened. It's a big load for you to carry. Too bad your father can't help you with it.”

“I know. And it gets worse. This afternoon Walter banned me from the office and even had me escorted from the building by security!” She explained what had happened, and though she'd expected her grandfather to become angry on her behalf, maybe even offer to storm down there to the office and give Walter Hallerman a piece of his mind, instead he just ate eggs and nibbled on bacon and let her tell her story. Somehow, his calm response lent calmness back to her.

“I'd give anything for the letter Oona sent back to Sean,” she said, “the one that answered the question of Adele's identity. But that's long gone, apparently. Now we're almost back to where poor Adele was a hundred years ago, faced with the task of proving something almost impossible to prove but that we already know to be true.”

“Well put, my dear.”

Her eggs were growing cold, so she took one last bite and pushed her plate away.

“Grandpa,” she began, settling back in her seat, “if I'm so sure and you're so sure, why isn't my father sure?”

Jonah shrugged. “I wouldn't say he thinks Adele was a fraud. More likely, he's just open to the possibility. Your father was always a pragmatic man. I have a feeling that as long as the company wouldn't be hurt by it, he doesn't really care either way.”

“But she was his grandmother. He loved her dearly.”

Jonah was silent for a long moment as he finished clearing his plate and drank down all his coffee.

“Well,” he said slowly, “let's think about this for a bit. In the aftermath of such a tragedy, what would a father rather believe—that he lost a daughter or that he lost a niece?”

“I don't follow.”

“I'm talking about Sean Brennan. Think about it. Two young women were coming to America, his daughter and his niece. He learns one of them didn't make it. If you were him, which would you rather believe? That you'd
lost your daughter or that you'd lost your niece? I know it sounds cold, but speaking as a father, I can tell you for a fact that he'd rather have lost the niece.”

“But Sean barely knew Adele, and even then only from letters. He hadn't been with her in person since she was three years old. Why would it matter?”

Jonah studied her for a moment. “Ask any parent and they'll tell you why. Take my word on that. There's a bond there regardless, one deeper and more pervasive than you could ever imagine.”

She nodded, suddenly feeling young and inexperienced and foolish. At thirty-two
she
could be a parent by now. The fact that she wasn't made it harder for her to grasp his logic.

“Put it this way,” he said kindly. “Your father loves you so much, as you know.”

“I know.”

“Well, being such a pragmatic man, and having such a deep love for his own daughter, Nolan probably looks at this through the eyes of a loving father and assumes that whether the survivor was really Adele or not, Sean would have been willing to pretend his daughter survived, just to save himself the heartache of having lost his child—the child he'd never had a chance to get to know before then.”