Page 95 of The Hermit on the Hill

In the past, she'd wanted nothing to do with the treasure hunt, said she didn't need anything material from Nana, but I had a feeling she'd want to see this.

At least, I hoped she would.

Jenna looked through the trunk, not pulling out any more books, just skimming over their spines. "Most of these look like journals. Do you have any idea how much lost folklore and folk traditions might be in this one trunk?"

"A whole lot, I'd imagine. You can go through them all at the house."

"Are you sure? This is your family history."

I placed a hand over Jenna's rounded belly. "Your family, too. No matter what happens between us, it's your family, too."

I moved on to the other side of the trunk. There were five boxes each with an expensive-looking necklace or bracelet or ring. I'd have to get them appraised to know if they were worth anything. If Brit or Jenna wanted them, it would be better to keep them in the family.

Jenna was reading Edwina's journal, already lost in those old words. I set the jewelry boxes on the grass and dug farther into the trunk.

A metal tackle box, filled with cash, about a few thousand, maybe more, was next. I set that aside, too.

Under it were documents. The kind of things a person who trusted banks would put in a safe deposit box.

There was the deed to Nana's house and vaccine records for me and Brit. Under that were two birth certificates. One for Brit and one for me.

I knew my father's name, but that was it. Nana had told me stories about my mother all my life, but had never spoken of my father. From the little she'd said about him, I suspected she blamed him for my mother's death. I wasn't sure how she could blame my father for a drunk driver hitting their car, but I could also understand how grief could blind a person to logic.

What I had never known, what Brit had never known, was the name of her father. Harrison Macnichol according to her birth certificate. I had a pretty good idea how Brit would react to this. She'd want to meet him, and she'd jump in with both feet, opening herself up to more of the kind of hurt she experienced with her mother repeatedly.

Jenna put down Edwina's journal to see what I held.

"Oh."

There was no other sound in the orchard and that single word woke me like I'd been in a dream. I looked around to see Jenna and I were alone. Her family had left us to this moment. Even Catrick was no longer in his cage. Jared must have released him.

"Brittany Ann Larson. That was her name before your grandmother adopted her?"

I nodded.

"And Brit's father. Has she ever met him?"

"No. Her mother claimed she didn't know his name."

"I recognize that name," Jenna said slowly. "I think…" She shook her head. "I shouldn't say more until I'm sure and even then… More than one person can have the same name."

"Maybe it's better if you forget you know it. It would probably be best if Brit doesn't get in touch with him."

"Will you show her this?"

I wanted to say no more than I wanted to kiss Jenna at the moment, which was a hell of a lot. "I can't keep this from her. As much as I wish I could, I won't lie to my sister."

She rubbed my back, asking no more questions, and I leaned into that comfort.

Eventually, Jenna leaned across me and pulled the last item from the trunk. A binder. She handed it to me and I slid the birth certificates back into the trunk on top of the journals.

I pulled her onto my lap and wrapped an arm around her so we could look at the binder together.

Her weight on me was a tether to reality, to the present, to the joy at having her back in my life as we flipped through pictures of me as a baby, my mother holding me.

I flipped a page and paused at a photo of me in the arms of a man. A man younger than me, but damn, he looked just like me. My mother stood beside him, eyes bright, smile wide.

"Why didn't she ever show me this?" I asked, not expecting an answer.

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