Page 57 of Sipping Seduction
“Just after one.”
“In the morning?” His voice was edged with sleepiness. “Why are you still awake? Is everything okay?”
I wiped the tears away from my cheek. “No, everything is not okay. Or maybe it is. I don't know. I've reached the end of the diary, but I still have so many questions.”
“Baby, you're letting it get to you. Why don't you try to get some sleep and we can talk about it in the morning?”
“They called off the wedding. Turns out the surveyor said the stream didn't touch the Stewart's land, so the Bishops called the whole wedding off. Only now I don't know what happened to Cornelia.” I held out the diary and flipped through the empty pages. “There aren't any more entries. What do you think that means?”
Evan didn't say anything for a few seconds. I wasn't sure if he was thinking or if he'd fallen back asleep. Either way, the silence between us only added to my irritation. “Did you hear me? The last entry says she was going to find Logan. But the Stewarts paid him to leave town. Where do you think she went? Do you think she found him and that's why there's no record of her?”
“Aw, baby, it's one o’clock in the morning. My brain isn't with it enough to think at all. Do you want me to go put on a pot of coffee?”
“No. Just hold me.”
“That I can do.” Evan spooned around me and pulled me into his chest.
It's not like I could do anything to help Cornelia now. Her fate had been sealed over a century ago. Still, not knowing what happened to her felt like mourning the loss of a friend. I turned off the light and snuggled into Evans’s arms. Pete the Dog jumped up onto the bed and turned in a few circles before finally flopping into a heap by our feet.
I closed my eyes but opened them again when images of Cornelia flashed through my mind. Except for one photo Cole had found in his dad's filing cabinet, I didn't even have an idea of what she looked like. Unable to fall asleep, I vowed to myself and to her that I would find out what happened to her. Someone had to know something.
Hopefully the historical society would be able to come through. Having made that promise, my eyes got heavy, and I slowly drifted off to sleep.
CHAPTER29
Evan
The dayof the race dawned with blue skies and not a single cloud. I'd been training for weeks and was ready to finally prove to everyone that my leg was good as new, and I no longer needed their pity or support. After a light breakfast, I woke Frannie so we could drive to the starting line together. She needed to be there early to get all the runners checked in, and I decided to go with her, even though I didn't need to be there that early. Staying at home would only give my nerves more time to wind up and I'd rather be with her.
Pete the Dog was the official race mascot, so Frannie tied a black-and-white checkered bandana around his neck, and we set off in my truck. The route of the race had to be moved at the last minute due to a grain truck spilling onto the road. I wanted to have a chance to drive through the course and make sure I was familiar with the path before I took my spot at the starting line. I dropped Frannie and Pete the Dog off so she could get to work.
“Are you sure you're ready for this?” she asked.
I nodded. I couldn't wait to get out on the course. I'd done a couple of practice runs the week before and had been improving my time with each attempt. I wasn't planning on finishing first, but just finishing would be an accomplishment and something I hadn't dared to dream of a year ago, or even as recently as a month ago.
“I'll see you at the starting line.” She leaned across the console to wrap her arms around my neck and pull my head down for a kiss.
I lingered, not wanting to say goodbye. Frannie climbed down from the truck and got Pete the Dog out of the back seat. He was always up for an outing and didn't bother looking back. I gave her a final wave, then followed her directions to where I'd be able to do a quick tour of the course before they closed down the streets. Though the terrain around Beaver Bluff was full of foothills, she assured me they'd done their best to keep the course as flat as possible. I wasn't worried about my leg since I'd been practicing on pavement. Had we been doing an off-road run, it would have been a whole different story.
While I drove, I cranked up the radio, trying to get myself amped-up and in the mood with my favorite Black Sabbath album. If anyone knew how to overcome odds, it would be the lead singer of that band. Ozzy had been through more than I could even imagine and still played the kind of music that could inspire a guy like me to take on the odds. I’d almost reached the end of the course when my phone rang. My sister Ruby’s number flashed across the screen.
“Hey, what's up, little sis? Aren't you coming out to cheer for me this morning?”
“You know I've got an event at the distillery. I just wanted to call to wish you good luck.”
I’d forgotten she had a private group tasting this morning. “Thanks, I appreciate it. Are you planning on joining us to celebrate later tonight?”
Frannie had invited my family over for a BBQ this afternoon as a way of mending fences after the last meal we’d shared together at my parents’ house. The fences weren’t necessarily hers to mend, but she still felt bad about not telling them herself that she’d been seeing a Stewart. Her feet were firmly planted on Bishop ground now—a fact I wouldn't hesitate to remind her of after the race.
I’d heard through the grapevine that Andrew Stewart was pretty much a professional marathoner, because why the hell wouldn't he be? I couldn't seem to get away from that guy, no matter what. He’d probably lap me on a stupid 10k, but I wasn't there to impress Andrew. I was there to prove to myself and everyone else that I could do it.
Ruby agreed that yes, she would be coming to the barbecue and planned on bringing a few bottles of whiskey from our private collection at the distillery to honor my accomplishment.
“Did you tell Dad you’re doing that?” I asked. We kept at least one or two bottles from every special release so we’d have them on hand for family celebrations, but I wasn't sure if this would count as something to commemorate, as far as my dad was concerned.
“Dad's retired,” Ruby said. “Cole told me it would be okay. I figure as long as he or Vaughn are good with it, it shouldn't matter what Dad thinks.”
I held back a laugh. Dad might have given up the reins as manager of the distillery, but as long as there was still breath in his lungs, he would never give up his hold on the place. I imagined all of us would feel the same way when it was our turn to step back and let the next generation take over, but for Dad especially, it had been a hard pill to swallow when Mom begged him to retire. He’d been at the helm for so long. Running the distillery was just as much a part of his life as eating and breathing.
