Page 41 of Christmas Harbor Secrets
“He left her.” Her voice cracked, soft and raw. “Not because he wanted to. Because they made him. But there’s no mention of me. A child.”
He leaned back, rubbing a hand down his jaw, eyes fixed on the wall like he was watching actors play out a story he didn’t want to see. “I’m guessing he never even told the authorities you existed. No paper trail or evidence that way. He was keeping you safe from birth. If he broke with Laurel Tide to turn state’s evidence, he had a target on his back the size of Florida. They must’ve found out he was alive somehow, and he tried to broker a new deal.”
Isobel’s whisper trembled. “They must have. That’s why he left us.”
Rone nodded once, grim. “And when they did, he went backunder a new story—like he’d never left. He knew that if they found out he wasn’t dead, he needed to return or they’d never stop looking.”
Her chest ached so fiercely she pressed her fist against it. “Why didn’t they agree to a new relocation?”
“Because he had more value if he reintegrated into Laurel Tide.” Rone turned toward her. “He couldn’t risk them tracing him to you or your mother. So he built walls. Lied to everyone. Even the people who loved him.”
“He didn’t lie,” she whispered. “He protected us.”
Rone didn’t argue.
She leaned back, staring at the screen as though her father might appear between the lines of typewritten history.
The next file was a personal log—short, unformatted text files labeled with dates. The first opened with a single sentence:
If you have this, I’m already dead.
Her breath hitched. The sound that followed from Rone was low and human, part groan, part prayer.
She kept reading.
I was twelve when Laurel Tide found me. Twelve when they taught me the difference between loyalty and survival. I thought I’d die there. Then I met her.
Isobel’s vision blurred. “My mother.”
Rone’s hand brushed the table, near hers but not touching. “Keep going.”
She taught me that I was worthy of love and that no one else should own me. Then I found out I would be a father, and I knew I wanted to be there for my child. To give that baby every opportunity I never had growing up. For a while, I believed I could wash it all clean. New name. New life. I should’ve known better. Tide always comes back in.
The next line trembled under her eyes.
If my daughter ever sees this—Isobel, I love you. I never stopped watching the water, waiting for a chance to come home.
Her hand flew to her mouth, but the sob broke through anyway—a soft, wounded sound that echoed off the cabin walls.
Rone stood without hesitation. He crossed to her and crouched beside the chair, both hands on her legs. “Hey. Easy.”
She shook her head. “He was alive all this time. And I hated him for leaving.”
“You didn’t know.”
“But he did. He knew what it would do to us.” She turned toward him, eyes red, voice cracking. “He chose the lie.”
Rone met her gaze. “He chose to keep you breathing.”
Silence folded between them, heavy but not empty. Outside, the faint slap of water against the hull filled the space their words couldn’t reach.
After a long moment, Isobel drew a shuddering breath and wiped her cheeks. “There’s more.”
She scrolled through the final entries. The logs became erratic—disjointed sentences, coordinates, fragments of what looked like supply manifests. And one last note:
Isobel,
They discovered you’re my daughter. They tracked down Sara and discovered she had you. The only way to protect you now is for you to get Rone to help. There is proof in this file that Laurel Tide used the docks. Not just for drug smuggling—but for chemicals, weapons, people. Find Rone. He’ll know what to do. Don’t trust anyone but him. I’m so sorry. I thought I could keep you from this, but all I could buy you is a chance.
