Authors: Julie Ortolon
What?
The words caught him off guard, since they weren’t what he’d hoped for. Disappointment came first, followed by a cold trace of premonition down his spine. He willed his pulse to slow, willed his voice to stay calm. “What was it?”
“I found a necklace.” Excitement spread over her whole face. “A very special necklace.”
“Really?” he said lamely, wondering what to do. This could be good, he told himself. She was handing him the perfect opportunity to come clean. Should he say,
Yes, I know
?
“I found it just up the beach.” She took his hand before he could speak. “Here, I’ll show you where.”
Tugging him forward, she picked up their pace until the beach curved inland. Trees surrounded the area on three sides, providing a private sanctuary. She pulled him to a piece of driftwood large enough to serve as a bench.
“I found it right here.” She pointed to the area in front of the driftwood.
Dread crowded around him at her obvious joy. He’d already suspected the necklace meant a great deal to her. One look into her eyes confirmed that.
“It was just lying on the sand, winking in the sun,” she told him. “Actually, it’s more than just a necklace. The pendant is a frame, about the size of a silver dollar, that holds a small mirror. That isn’t what makes it special, though.”
“A mirror, yes, that’s interesting,” he managed, mentally scrambling. He should say
interesting because
—
“Very interesting, considering its age.” Her enthusiasm rolled over his words before he could get them out. “Experts think it may date back to the Thracians or the Byzantine Empire.”
“They’re not sure?” He felt a stab of disappointment since he’d always wondered about the necklace’s origin. Once, he’d looked into the mirror, and he’d seen what he thought was the face of the man who created it. Then the man had given the mirror to a woman standing beside him. To his frustration, Luc hadn’t been able to catch any clues to the time and place. “It would be cool to know where it came from.”
“Definitely,” Chloe agreed. “Especially because of the mirror inside the frame. Researchers carbon-dated the frame, and it was made before glass was supposedly invented. The historical significance of a glass mirror that old is huge.”
He wanted to tell her the mirror was far older than the frame. He’d seen that exchange too, when another man had given the mirror, clad in its new frame, to the woman he loved. She’d worn it as a cloak pin, a purpose it served for hundreds of years, until another man turned it into a necklace for the woman he loved. He’d tell her all of that, once he’d confessed everything. “It must have created quite a stir when you found it.”
“It did.” Amazement lit her face. “Well, not right away. I didn’t show it to anyone at first.”
“Why not?”
To his surprise, her joy dimmed a bit. Her gaze shifted as if she debated how much to tell him. “Well, at first I thought it was costume jewelry, so no big deal.”
She shrugged and looked away.
This was his chance. He opened his mouth, but then she glanced back. The uncertainty filling her eyes stopped him.
“Actually, that’s not completely true,” she said. “I didn’t tell anyone right away because I sensed it was special the moment I found it. I felt it. And I knew the Historical Commission would take it away from me as part of the shipwreck. I just couldn’t give it up. Not right away.”
“What makes everyone think it was part of the shipwreck?” he asked, since that was the very assumption he needed to disprove.
“What else could it be?” She looked confused by the question. “If one of our guests had lost something that valuable while swimming, I’m sure they would have told us. Since I found it right after Hurricane Ike, that means the storm churned it up from the bottom of the cove and tossed it onto the shore. But I don’t care how the necklace got here. What matters—to me—is that
I
found it.”
“Yes, it is amazing that it was you.” He nodded, still stunned by that fact.
She looked hesitant but hopeful. “It’s amazing because I think it was a gift from Marguerite and Jack.”
“What?” That caught him off guard.
“I can’t believe I’m going to tell you this,” she said. “You’ll probably think I’m crazy.”
To his shock, tears filled her eyes. “Hey, hey.” He stepped closer to rub her upper arms. Why did talking about the mirror upset her? “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me anything. I mean, unless you want to. Whatever it is, I’ll understand.”
“I’ve always felt like an outsider on Pearl Island,” she blurted out. “No matter how much I love it here, or how often the St. Claires say I’m like part of the family, I’ve never felt like I belong.”
“Oh, Chloe.” He eased her into his arms. When she buried her face against his chest, he stroked her hair, trying to soothe her. “Shh, it’s okay, baby. I’ve got you.”
“Yesterday,” she sniffled, “I told you about Marguerite’s husband, Henri. What I didn’t tell you is his full name.” Lifting her head, she gazed up at him through watery eyes. “It was Henri LeRoche.”
Luc stared at her, more shocked and confused by her obvious shame than by the confession. “You’re saying you’re related to the man who built Pearl Island? But that does make you family.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I mean yes, I’m related, but only through Henri, not Marguerite.”
Luc’s heart twisted as he watched Chloe dry her cheeks. She seemed embarrassed by her tears, and he had no idea how to comfort her. He also feared his own confession would upset her even more.
“You can’t share what I’m about to tell you.” She wiped a finger under her eyes, growing calmer now that her initial outburst was over. “It’s fairly common knowledge here in Galveston, but all mention of Henri’s last name and the fact that he founded LeRoche Shipping is intentionally left out of all promotional material. That was part of a lawsuit settlement between the St. Claires and my grandfather.”
“Lawsuit?” Surprise had his arms loosening, but he kept them around her waist. If there had been a legal battle between the two sides of the family, no wonder Chloe felt as if she didn’t belong here.
“The St. Claires hate my grandfather,” she told him, sounding wounded. “With good reason. You have no idea what they went through to get Pearl Island away from him.”
“Wait a second.” He shook his head. “Your grandfather used to own Pearl Island? I assumed the current owners inherited it, since they’re direct descendants of Marguerite and Henri.”
“They should have inherited it, but didn’t. After Marguerite died in the confrontation with Henri, he disowned his daughter, Nicole, claiming she was illegitimate. Which she wasn’t!” Chloe insisted. “When he died, Henri left everything—this island, his fortune, and LeRoche Shipping—to his nephew in New Orleans. That’s how John inherited it.”
“John? You mean your grandfather?”
“Not that I ever call him that. Trust me, my grandparents aren’t the touchy-feely kind. They prefer I call them by their names.”
He raised a brow, thinking that sounded awfully cold. “Is that why you feel unwelcome here?”
“I didn’t say unwelcome. At least not anymore. The St. Claires have never thrown any of this in my face.”
“Okay.” He frowned, trying to sort it out. “But you
used
to feel unwelcome?”
She nodded. “I thought Marguerite and Jack didn’t want me here. That changed when I found the necklace. Until that day, I’d never felt them. Ever. Nearly everyone who spends time on Pearl Island feels the ghosts in some way. Yet, I never did. So I thought they were, I don’t know, snubbing me.”
“Until you found the necklace.” Luc felt a noose tightening around his neck.
“Yes.” The light came back into her eyes. “It was like a sign. The fact that it’s a necklace makes it especially meaningful, since Marguerite’s necklace is so much a part of her legend. Plus, it came off of the
Freedom
, which makes it like a gift from both of them. I know they meant for me to be the one who found it, because when I picked it up, I felt…”
“Reassured,” Luc said woodenly. He’d felt the same way whenever he held the mirror.
“Yes!” Her eyes brightened. “So you do get it?”
She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. Squeezing his eyes shut for a second, he hugged her back, feeling doomed.
“I’m so glad.” She leaned back enough to smile at him. “I’ve never known how to describe it. It wasn’t a cold spot, like everyone else feels. Instead, when I held it in my hands, I felt as if I were holding something alive. This sensation, almost like warmth but more elusive, went up my arms. Then I looked in the mirror and saw the inn open and thriving again. That vision filled me with a sense of… promise. A promise that everything would be okay, despite what we’d gone through with the hurricane. Having Marguerite and Jack reach out to reassure me like that let me know they’ve accepted me here. Even though I had to put the necklace in the Seaport Museum, no one can take that sense of acceptance away from me.”
“Oh, God, Chloe.” Luc dropped his forehead to hers as regret ripped through him. If he could change his mind about telling her the truth, he would. He couldn’t, though. Even if he was willing to deprive his grandmother of the necklace, Chloe would see the portal sooner or later.
“Luc?” she said, concerned. “What’s wrong?”
He forced himself to look at her. “I don’t know how to tell you this, and God help me, I wish I didn’t have to.”
“Tell me what?” Concern filled her eyes.
“What you felt that day has nothing to do with Marguerite and Jack. I know how it feels to hold the mirror because…” The words stuck in his throat, nearly choking him, but he forced them out. “I’ve held it myself.”
“What?” Her arms about his neck went slack. “How is that possible?”
“The necklace you found was never on the
Freedom
. It came from much farther away. Up until Hurricane Katrina, it was in New Orleans.” He met her questioning gaze steadily. “It belongs to my grandmother.”
She blinked. “Are you joking?”
“When Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans, it destroyed my grandmother’s house,” he told her earnestly. “Of everything she lost, losing that necklace is the thing that upset her the most.”
“That’s impossible.” She stepped out of his arms. He wanted to pull her back as she stared at him. “Why would you say that? I tell you how much the necklace means to me, and out of the blue, you say it belongs to your grandmother?”
“This isn’t out of the blue.” He raked his hands through his hair. “Getting the necklace back is the reason I came here.”
“I asked what brought you to Pearl Island on day one, and you didn’t even mention it.” She retreated further, eyeing him up and down with suspicion.
“I didn’t know how to bring it up.” The words sounded ridiculous, even if they were true.
“How about when we went to dinner?” Confusion lined her face.
“I didn’t know how.” He ached to explain it in a way that she’d understand. And forgive.
“Or yesterday?” Her eyes beseeched him. “Or last night?”
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. What could he say? That he’d suspected this would upset her, so he’d chosen not to tell her? That he didn’t want to ruin whatever was building between them?
But he had ruined it. He could see it in her eyes.
“I don’t understand why you would make this up.”
“It’s true.”
“It’s too farfetched to be true.” Her fists clenched. “You’re saying a hurricane sucked a necklace out of your grandmother’s house, and then, three years later and three hundred miles away, another hurricane dropped it on the beach here? If you were some random guy, I might call it coincidence. But you’re not. The fact that we knew each other growing up pushes this over the top.”
“It’s not coincidence. Not according to my grandmother.” At her incredulous glance, he rushed to explain. “The mirror has some sort of power. You felt it. My grandmother thinks it sought you out.”
Hurt filled her eyes. “What I felt was Marguerite and Jack.”
“You said yourself that what you felt was different from how other people feel the ghosts.”
“What about what I saw?”
“Chloe, please…” He stepped toward her, wanting to comfort her.
“No!” She stumbled away, pressing her hands to her head. “Stop lying to me.”
“I’m not,” he pleaded. “I have proof.”
“Proof?” she shot back. “What proof could you possibly have for something so farfetched?”
“Please, just listen.” He held a hand out toward her, willing her to calm down. “The mirror was the inspiration for Vortal. It’s the portal you have to pass through at the beginning of each game. Anyone who compares the portal graphic to the necklace will see that.”
“That’s your proof?” Suspicion flared in her eyes. “This thing in your game bears some resemblance to the necklace I found, so you think it’s yours? We’re talking about a small gold frame studded with diamonds. I’ve seen photos of brooches from the nineteen fifties that look similar. Is that what happened? You saw the pictures of my necklace floating around on the Internet and decided it looked enough like your portal that you could make this wild claim?”