The House on Blackberry Hill (Jewell Cove 1)

“That’s the thing.” She felt odd just speaking about it. The very idea was so fantastic, so surreal. “It seems Kristian wasn’t who he seemed.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean he wasn’t just the chauffeur. He was put here to do a job. For the Third Reich.”

Tom started to laugh. “Okay, are you sure you didn’t hit your head? Your imagination is running away with you. Are you saying he was a spy? Here in Jewell Cove?” He laughed again.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. You can read her diary if you want. Edith uncovered a secret meeting in the barn that nearly killed me just now.”

The mirth left his face. “Holy shit. You’re serious.”

“Completely. What is really crazy is that he gave it all up and turned spy for the Americans.” She pressed a hand to her heart. “Each time he left it was to protect her, you know? Until the last time when he returned to take her away for good.

“Edith had the courage to choose love, no matter how wrong it might have been.” Tom shook his head. “I’m not sure if that’s wonderful or selfish.”

She shrugged. “I’m not sure there is always a right and a wrong, Tom. Elijah was not the husband he should have been. He’d dishonored their vows long before she met Kristian. He was a tyrant who insisted on having his way in all things.” She shuddered. “Their lives shattered that night. She died. The girls were split up, and Edith’s parents raised Gram as their own. I wonder if Elijah threatened to reveal Iris’s true parentage to the world if they ever tried to make contact with Jewell Cove again. It just doesn’t make sense that they would never tell Gram about her sister or mother unless something was holding them back. After what I read, I wouldn’t have put it past him.”

Abby was pulled from her thoughts, when Tom turned into his gravel driveway. She’d never actually been to his cottage before. It was off the main road in an inlet called Fiddler’s Rock, a few miles south of Jewell Cove, not marked by any road signs but known to the locals by the simple landmark. His cottage was nestled in among a stand of trees with glimpses of the water just visible between the branches.

Tom jumped out of the truck and came around to open her door. He eased her down out of the cab and scooped her into his arms, carrying her to the tiny house.

The power was still on, so he flicked on a light and carried her straight through to the small kitchen, pulling out a chair at the drop-leaf table. “Sit here. I’m going for the first-aid kit,” he said.

She took a minute to look around. She was sure the table and chairs were handcrafted. The furniture was simple but cozy, and the windows looking over the water were left uncovered so the view remained unimpeded. It was the kind of place that suited him perfectly—sturdy and plain and ruggedly beautiful.

He came back with a basin of water and a kit, which he put on the table. “You hurt anywhere else but your legs?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. My hoodie covered a lot.”

He went to the cupboard and took out a glass, filled it with water and brought it to the table along with a bottle of pain relievers. “Take two of those. I’m guessing you’re going to be hurting later.”

As she obediently took the pills he cleaned along her cut with a soft cloth. “This isn’t deep,” he said. “Not enough for stitches. I’m going to bandage it up though, to keep it clean.”

It wasn’t until he went to work on her knees that she gritted her teeth, inhaling with a hiss.

First he sprayed them with an antiseptic to dull the pain and get rid of any dirt. “I’m sorry, Abs. This probably isn’t going to be pleasant.”

“Just get them out,” she said tightly, bracing herself. Dragging herself to the door as the building fell had left several splinters and scrapes along her knees. As gently as he could, he employed the tweezers in the kit to remove the splinters. One by one he plucked them out, each one leaving a little pocket of relief in its wake. Blood oozed in a thin layer from the raw skin as she breathed through her clenched teeth. It seemed to take forever, but he attended to her carefully, patiently, calmly. Her head was hanging over the back of the chair when he finished with the first knee and she wished it were all over. But there was still one more to go, and by the time he got to the last splinters of wood she was close to crying again. The tweezers dug into her flesh to grip a particularly deep shard and she bit down on her lip so hard she tasted blood.

She flinched as he dabbed at the torn skin, cleaning out any remaining dirt. “I think I got them all,” he said softly. “I’m sorry. I know it hurt.”

He put squares of gauze over the cuts and used surgical tape to hold them in place. “They’ll sting for a while, but once they scab over you’ll be fine.”

“Pretty,” she breathed.

“You got off lucky,” he replied, standing and gathering bits of bandage and tape to put in the garbage.

“I know I did,” she answered, finally relaxing her neck. She put her hand on Tom’s wrist, halting it from picking up the tweezers. “Lucky that I wasn’t killed when the barn came down. And lucky that you were there to pull me out. I can’t ever thank you enough, Tom. I was so scared.” Her lip wobbled. “Why is it that you are always there when I’m scared?”

He put down the tweezers. “Maybe I’m supposed to be. Have you thought of that?”

His hand stroked along her arm and she shivered. Right now it seemed like too much to think about. Everything felt overwhelming, thoughts crowding on top of other thoughts until they were a big jumbled mess.

“You’re still cold. Now that your knees are fixed, let’s get you into something warmer.”

He’d misread the reason for her shiver, but she didn’t mind. He came back with a pair of gray sweatpants and handed them over with a crooked smile. “I’m afraid this is all I have.”

She shrugged. “They’ll do.” The cuffs of her shorts were wet and chafed her thighs. She was already starting to feel stiffness in her arms and back, but she stood and began to unbutton her shorts. “Turn around, okay?”