Page 211 of Waiting For A Girl Like You
“But the bench?”
“I thought that at first, but something is telling me to look here.” They crouched together on the ground, with Liam grinning at her. “I don’t understand it either, but here we go.”
“When you have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth,” Will said, helping Simone and Bernie traverse the thick roots protruding from the ground. “Or, as I like to say, go with your gut no matter what, even if it’s telling you, you’re crazy.”
Everyone converged around them, with nothing but the occasional creak of branches or the rustling of leaves filling the silence while Liam worked. Jamison went to help him, but almost toppled over when her veil caught on a nearby fallen branch.
“Here, let me help you.” Working to set her free, her father extracted the veil from the gnarled branch. “There we go.”
“Thanks, Daddy.”
“Sure thing, Princess.”
“Are we really digging up graves?” Lenora asked with concern. “Because if so, I might need to take Xavier back to the house.”
“Of course we are. This is Jamison’s wedding day.” Annabeth dropped to her knees next to Jamison and nudged her shoulder. “What else would we be doing?”
“It’ll be shallow,” Abe said, watching Liam intently. “If Sinclair buried something, I’d have noticed. I come out here every week, and it would have caught my attention if the earth had been disturbed by a large hole.”
Carter stepped away from the group to stand at the fence line. His head tilted as he stared out over the bayou. “I thought I was crazy, but listen. There’s something out there, and it sounds like singing.” He pointed to the pilings protruding from the water. “Those pilings have some sort of metal on them, and it’s creating a sound when the wind blows.”
Everyone stopped and listened, and sure enough, Jamison could finally hear what Carter had been going on about. “I’ve never noticed it before, but I hear it.”
Her father frowned. “It does sound like a woman singing. Those pilings are from the old mill and were once part of the loading area, I think?”
“I don’t hear anything.” Rowan joined Carter at the black wrought-iron fence. “Nope. Nothing.”
“Yeah, there is. It’s like a lullaby,” Selah argued, pulling Xavier up to settle on his shoulders. “Can you hear it, big guy?”
“I hear it!” Xavier swayed as he listened. “It sounds pretty.”
Liam carefully shoveled dirt from around the two small stones. “Must be a Fairweather thing because I don’t hear it.” He paused and nodded at a spot to the left of the markers. “Abe, look at this. We’re missing grass here, and the dirt is more compacted.
Abe narrowed his eyes, nodding. “Yeah, you’re right. The surface looks normal, but it’s loose around the edges. Dig deeper, but do it slowly so you don’t damage anything buried.”
Liam worked the dirt loose around the missing patch of grass, and—perhaps an inch below the surface—a box began to take shape.
“Oh my God,” Jamison whispered. “My husband is a genius.”
Liam paused to flash her a grin. “You just called me your husband.”
“Do we need to be worried about bombs?” her father interrupted. “I know you’re excited, but we’re dealing with Michael Sinclair here.”
“No,” Liam replied softly and returned to his digging. “CeCe is here. He would never destroy this place.”
Will nodded in agreement. “The tone in the journals showed how much he loved her, and those were simple words on paper. I can’t imagine him ever hurting CeCe, even after death.”
Extracting the box from the ground took less than five minutes. Metal and with no lock to keep anyone out, Liam placed it in the center of the group. “Selah, step back with Xavier. Just in case.”
They waited while Selah and Lenora moved Xavier out to wait on the trail.
“Here we go.” Liam flipped up the latch, and everyone leaned in when he lifted the lid. Cradled at the bottom of the box were books wrapped in cloth, and he gently pulled each one out. “Thank you for not killing us, Sinclair.”
The soft leather bound journals were labeled numerically on their spines, and as Liam opened the first one, he snapped it closed again when he read the first page. “This isn’t for me to do.”
About to burst with anticipation, Jamison fought the urge to snatch the journal from him and read it herself. “What do you mean?”
“Michael Sinclair wrote his journals to his mother, and CeCe did the same.” Holding the book out, Liam nodded for Simone to take it. “These are written to you, Simone. CeCe considered you her mother even up until the end.”
