Guarding the Treasure (11 page)

He held his hands up. “Okay, Sophie, I know when I've been soundly rejected, and you're killing me on this one, so let's eat and stop talking about it.” Kevin stood, helping her to her feet.
Friend
, he thought. She always referred to their relationship as if they only ate popcorn and played video games together. No thought at all of the long evenings lying out under the stars or the early mornings at his apartment. He couldn't crack this woman, and it was driving him crazy. No matter, he had other things to concern himself with first. He wasn't bringing the issue of him traveling with her up again, but he wasn't playing dead on the issue, either. He was going to continue to have the diary translated and get the information he wanted about Professor Smith.

 

Kevin watched as she checked her bags, overcome with the urge to protect her from something, something that made his gut turn too fast. Maybe the realization that he had fallen deeply in love with her months ago had finally caught up with him. He had been careful not to push his feelings on her, as difficult as it had been, and now seeing her prepare to leave—and meet another man no less—made him want to rush in, grab her, and take her away to keep her for himself. But there was that nasty little word, kidnapping, and it wouldn't be a professional move on his part. Honesty finally hit him, and it hit him hard, right where it hurts, making him want to double over. Had he been playing the fool? Did she share his feelings? He wasn't sure about much of anything with her as of late. She had been so consumed with the diary and Professor Smith that she hardly noticed he existed.

She turned, the diamonds in her eyes sparkling, making her leaving more than he could handle. “You're beautiful,” he said. Kevin waited for his emotions to catch up with his mind. “So are you ready to go?” Sophie smiled, making it even harder to let her go.

“Yes, I'm so excited I can hardly stand it,” she said, examining her flight documents. She looked up; hoping the man standing in front of her could feel her enthusiasm. Instead, a troubled look had taken hold of Kevin's blue eyes and clouded his sexy demeanor. “Hey, don't worry,” she said, moving close to his side. “I'll be fine. And besides, I've done a pretty good job of taking care of myself this far, don't you think?”

His lips turned up, forming a slight smile as he pulled her close, tight to his body. He pressed his face into her hair, breathing in its flowery scent. It took him back to the nights spent together, talking and touching. He wanted more of that.

“Sophie,” he closed his eyes and kissed her neck, “please be careful.” He grazed her cheek with his lips. He looked into her eyes once more then pressed his lips to hers, tender and lush. Kevin wished there was some way to make her stay.

She pulled away, not wanting to get emotional. “I need to go, Kevin.” Her eyes were still locked with his and her lips wet from their kiss.

“I'll call you,” he said, letting go of her.

“Let me call you first. I'll need time to get settled, okay?”

“It's that private thing, right, Sophie?” he asked, wishing she would commit to some sort of feelings for him before she left.

She smiled as she turned. “I'll call you when I'm settled.” Slinging her purse over her shoulder, she hurried toward security.

He watched until she was out of sight, more determined to have her within reach, but for now that was not going to be possible.

 

Kevin stopped by Sophie's house to feed the fish and check on things as he'd promised. Jeffrey pulled into his drive as he was leaving. Kevin waved. “How's it going?” he asked, seeing Jeffrey's biceps flex as he shut the car door.

Without answering Kevin's greeting, Jeffrey leaned against his car, obviously something he'd learned from a character on a Television show. “So where's Sophie off to?” he asked coolly.

Sophie's neighbor was in much better shape than he, and Kevin didn't know what might set him off. He needed to stay on this guy's good side if he could. “She's in Ireland for the next few weeks. I'll be stopping by to check on things occasionally,” he said, getting no response from the man with the rippling muscles. “Hey, I was wondering if you could keep an eye on things, too. I'm going to be out of town and—”

“Yeah.” Jeffrey moved and straightened his impeccable body. “I've got a key, so that's no problem,” he said with a relaxed smile. His massive biceps relaxed.

“Thanks. You really are a good neighbor to Sophie,” Kevin said, knowing that putting Jeffrey in charge would score a few brownie points that may come in handy down the road.

 

Sophie opened the notebook that held the translated version of the diary. Professor Smith had been kind enough to fax additional pages shortly before she left for the airport. He wanted to make sure she had reading material for her long flight. She sighed with a smile, wondering about the professor and why he was going out of his way to make her comfortable. Maybe that was just the way of the Irish, she thought. Whatever it was, it didn't matter. The translated pages proved to be compelling and thought-provoking, to say the least. She settled in and continued to read carefully, but she found that more than reading was taking place. Sophie found herself drawn in deeper and deeper the more she read. She shifted several times in her seat. There was something strange happening, a pain she had never experienced before. It was physical pain as well as mental anguish. It was disturbing, yet she was compelled to continue to read.

“Three, where are you? You have been silent to my ears during this, my time of great need.”

Sophie breathed in deep, trying to catch her breath, but she couldn't. She could not tear her eyes away from the page.

“You have spoken to me on the wind and have said that the heavens themselves display who you are, so why have you grown silent? What have I done to cause even you to desert me? Do you not see that my brother has given me to yet another man? I hate them. They use me for their own pleasure with no concern for me—just as my brother treats me. Do you have no concern for me? Do you care that my room is dark even in the daytime? Or that I wake from dreams that are not pleasurable? Do you wish for me to remain in them forever?”

Sophie caught herself sitting straight up in the seat, her eyes fixed on the words. She settled back once again and opened the original diary, laying it on top of the interpreted pages.

“Oh Anya,” she said, feeling a connection with the young woman even though she had gone through only the first sixty pages or so. “The more I listen to you, the more I feel you are trying to tell me something.” Her eyes traveled to water stains near the bottom of the page. She touched the blurred words, and her fingertips immediately felt damp. Her heart jumped, and she slowly turned her hand to see what looked like tear drops resting on her fingers. Her eyes widened. “What? How?” she asked, her lips moving but no sound emerging. The diary was over two hundred years old. She looked closer at the formation of the old Gaelic words. Her ears began to ring with an unfamiliar sound.

“Each heart knows its own bitterness, and no one else can fully share its joy.”

“Three? But how then do you know my heart, and why do you say such things to me about bitterness? You know my foes, the cause of such hurt within me.”

Sophie's breathing quickened as she felt the cut of Anya's words. She clutched her chest, and a thought of Trey stabbed at her mind. Was it he and his new love for God that had caused bitterness in her own heart? The reason she couldn't find true joy in a relationship with—? She stopped short of saying his name. Her eyes were drawn back to the page.

“You speak of joy? Three, what joy do you want from me?”
Anya's words thickened with anger.

Sophie didn't understand how she could possibly comprehend the words on the page. They weren't yet translated, but they continued.

“I feel you are cruel and have held back from me. Olivia, one of your own speaks of how you make her completely content, happy.”

“No one can cause you to be happy, Sophie.”

She looked quickly to the gentleman on her right. He was asleep. She was sure of it. Sophie looked closer. His mouth was open with the sound of deep breathing.

“Who said my name?” she whispered her heart beating hard as her eyes looked blankly at the open page. Was it something in the diary?

“Books don't speak, Sophie,” she said under her breath. Could the writings in the diary have anything to do with her? She shook her head and laughed.
Don't get all weird about this. It's only a book,
she reminded herself. Yet the words were distinct and full of life, spoken to her, not to an eighteen-year-old woman from Ireland.

“Man will steal the good, dear child. Look only to me for the good within and without.”

“I do not understand, Three. I do not understand your ways,”
Anya's tear-filled voice rang out.

“You will, my child. Read and listen to my words, and you will experience peace in the midst of your pain and suffering. Trust and lean on me in all things, and I will send you help.””

The words between the Spirit and the flesh and blood fell silent. The war going on within the young woman as she struggled with the words of Three permeated from the pages, thick with indecisiveness and her inability to trust. Sophie could taste the anger in Anya's words.

Sophie was now able to close the diary.

“What just happened?” she asked, turning to focus on the cloudless blue expanse outside of the plane's window. She had been consumed by the words of the diary, by the illusiveness of Three and his exchange with Anya. Was any of this real? No. Spirits are not real. She didn't believe in that sort of thing. Besides, in the time in which the diary was written, attitudes of this type were common among the people, right? Strong attitudes of unworthiness, distrust, and a lack of respect for the powerless. Uneasiness draped her mind. “Be careful, Sophie,” sounded gently in her ears. Kevin? She sighed, rehearsing his words in her mind. What did he know that she did not?

“This is great,” A. J. said, greeting Kevin with a slap on the shoulder. “Like old times, huh?”

Kevin smiled, laying a hand on his friend's shoulder. “Yeah, old times except for your signature preppy old guy look. What's happened to it?” he asked, laughing.

A. J. ran his hands back through his thinning light blonde hair. “Been doing a little undercover work and needed a rougher look,” he said, smiling, rubbing his unshaven chin.

Kevin laughed again, and at that, he knew not to ask questions. If A. J. thought it was safe to talk about what he was doing, then he would.

“So what's so urgent that we couldn't take care of this over the phone, Gates?”

Kevin looked straight ahead. “Ah, you know, it's been a while since I've been back and—”

“And nothing, Kev,” he said, his voice taking a serious turn. “There's more to this sudden visit than just missing your old friend and boss, so let's have it.”

“Take a turn here,” Kevin motioned. The two took a right into the Gettin' John's coffee shop on the lower level of LaGuardia.

“I'm buying,” Kevin said as they stood and studied the menu on the wall. Kevin was saved from giving a response to his friend's earlier comment when it was his turn to order.

“You didn't answer the question, Gates.” A. J. followed Kevin to a table with a view of the incoming jets.

Kevin took a sip of coffee, pulling back fast, almost burning his mouth. His eyes met A. J.'s. “There are a few things that seem to be gnawing at my brain, A. J., and I just can't seem to shake them.”

“Does it have anything to do with that college professor and her diary?” A. J. looked hard at Kevin over his large green cup.

Kevin adjusted his ball cap nervously. “Yes, it does.”

“You know Theresa has been all over that diary, right? Has she sent you any information on it yet?”

“No, nothing yet. Do you know anything?” Kevin leaned in, both elbows on the table.

“Not much, but according to Theresa's translation, the diary starts out pretty status quo, but then the author changes, and things begin to get a little weird.”

Kevin pushed his cup to the side, “How so?”

A. J. smiled and took a drink.

Kevin's eyes narrowed. “I studied a little of that diary myself—that is, what I could understand of the language. I found a turn of events, but I'm not sure I'd call them weird.”

“There's abuse to a woman, Kevin. Seemingly a young woman named Anya O'Connell. We did a little premature checking and found that the O'Connell family was quite wealthy in that time period. And then, to add a twist, the girl begins to dabble in the spirit world introduced to her by someone named Olivia and the family servant. Now if that isn't weird then—”

“What about the abuse, A. J.?” Kevin asked, wanting to go deeper.

“All Theresa said was that the woman was very graphic in her descriptions about what was happening to her.”

“I need to see Theresa. Can you make that happen?”

“Tonight? Are you crazy? People do have lives, you know. We'll go downtown tomorrow during regular business hours and see how far she's gotten, all right?”

Kevin hesitated then nodded his head in agreement. “Sorry. I guess I'm a little anxious.”

A. J. smiled, “Anxious about what? A two-hundred-year-old diary or a certain history professor friend of yours?”

“Her name is Sophie Hanes,” he said defensively.

“Hey Kev, listen, I didn't mean anything.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, cutting him off. “Let's get out of here and grab a bite to eat. I'm starving. And I'm also paying for dinner,” he said with a quick grin.

“In that case, you're on,” A. J. said, sliding his chair out, then standing. He put his hand on Kevin's shoulder. “Whatever's going on, we'll get to the bottom of it. You know that, right?”