Page 62 of In the Pursuit of Haven
“Both, I think.”
I groaned, but I didn’t want to leave Jessie’s side for another second, so I stayed with him, burrowing my face into his flannel jacket.
His arms tightened around me and I felt his chin resting against the top of my head. “I’ve got to think,” he muttered.
I wished my brain would start doing its thing, but terror had a way of freezing me up.
The stone smothered all sound from the outside world above us, and despite Jessie’s reassurances that we’d escape, doubts began to creep in. How could we know there were people above us to alert them that we were down here? We wouldn’t even know if it was daytime.
Letting out a cry, I tightened my fingers over Jessie. He immediately caught me to his chest and helped me ease against the bottom step where we could sit, nestled between the caskets on either side of us. His hands found my hair. “I’m sorry, Roxy. I should’ve told you about this.” His lips grazed my forehead.
I nodded, trying to take in his sudden softness through this suffocating fear. The apology was a little late, but still it felt so nice coming from him. “Do you remember what you read in that letter from Matthew to my aunt?” I asked.
“I think it’s pretty much ingrained in me.”
Same, strangely enough.“He told Haven that they’d be a team,” I reminded him.
“Honey.” He ran his fingers down my back. “You want that?”
“Yes,” I breathed out. “You big jerk!”More than anything.My voice rose, “That’s what I’ve been saying all along! Don’t you ever listen to me?”
“Okay, okay,” he said. His lips moved up on the sides as he tried to calm me down. “We’ll do it! We’re a team and no one will break us apart. We’ll get through this. We have to.”
Did he really mean that? Some of my fear and rage dissolved at his reassurances. Maybe agreeing to my conditions were empty promises meant to comfort me because we were about to die down here, but at the moment, I just wanted things to be the way they were when we came home from our wedding and he drank me in with those beautiful eyes of his.
Back then, he’d told me,“I’d die for you; I’ll live for you; you’re my heart and soul.”
He was all of that to me and more, and he’d never understand until he just let go of his need for control and lean on me!
One step at a time… undoing all the hateful habits of distrust he’d learned from his childhood wouldn’t happen in a day; erasing my fears of abandonment wouldn’t be that easy either.
I sighed. “Yes, Jessie, we can be a team.” I rested my head against his shoulder, away from the caskets. They weren’t covered in stone like the New Orleans ones and I could see every rotting detail.
He kissed the side of my face. “I won’t let anything happen to you, babe.”
I nodded, more firmly this time. “Yeah, me too.”
Jessie’s flashlight slanted off the brass handles corroded into a strange mint green. The swing bars that the pallbearers used to carry the casket were set into what was once an elegant brass background against the decaying wood. A compass showing north, south, east, west was etched into the metal, barely surviving the rigors of time.
Jessie’s fingers made soothing circles against my arm while I stared at it. No casket I knew in the history of the world had a compass rose on the handles.
And yet… above us in stone was essentially a compass rose with a bunch of numbers and letters mixed up in the middle.
I straightened. “Jessie!” Grimacing, I touched the brass swing bar and tugged it north. The handle lurched around, making the same ticking noises that a combination lock made.
Jessie moved to his knees to inspect what I’d found. “What’s that?”
“A… uh…” I wasn’t sure. Some kind of combination lock? “What numbers do we have up there?”
“A date—1751—but…” He left me to go up the stairs to spotlight the riddle again. I ran up behind him, trying to see what patterns I could pick out:
(W)
1751
Ri[c]haRD
W+CloW
