Page 89 of Whispers of Helena
“Oh, Kiran,” I whisper, my voice thick with emotion. “I think that’s perfect.”
While my true Kiran sleeps in the safety of heaven, having this reminder of him, this sweet illusion, soothes my soul.
Silas smiles, slipping a hand into his pocket. “There’s one more thing. Turn around for me.”
Curious, I shift on the blanket, my heart pounding as I turn away. A few seconds pass, and then, just beyond my vision, a glimmer of amber catches the light. My breath stills. He lowers the pendant in front of me, its warm, golden color igniting memories long buried.
A lump forms in my throat as he fastens the chain around my neck, his fingers grazing my skin. I trace the smooth surface of the stone, a wave of emotion surging through me. Spinning back to face him, my eyes blur with unshed tears.
“You kept it?” I wonder, my voice barely above a whisper.
He reaches out, brushing his fingertips over the pendant. “I carried it with me every day. It steadied me when I needed it. Now, it’s back where it belongs.”
A sob catches in my chest as I throw my arms around him, holding him close. This man, torn and broken, yet still standing, had carried me with him, a beacon of hope in his darkest nights.
My resolve tightens, fierce and unwavering.
“Thank you, Silas.”
A Plan
Silas
I spinthe cap on the bottle of gin, twisting it shut as I sit at my desk. Lifting the glass to my lips, I let the slow burn crawl down my throat, seeping warmth into my chest. My left hand tightens around the thick envelope Bennett’s lawyer dropped off.
Another sip, another few seconds to brace myself. Then, with a flick of my finger, I break the seal and slide out the crisp documents. The words blur together at first.Acquire. Transfer.Legal jargon meant to dress up a theft. My fingers tighten as I flip the page.
And then I see it.
Three million, two hundred and fifty thousand.
The number glares back at me. My grip on the glass tightens dangerously.
He dares to put a price on my home.
I set the papers down with slow control, then lift my drink to my lips. The liquid pools in my mouth just as Eli steps through the door, his sharp gaze flicking to the envelope, then to my face.
“So,” he says, grabbing a chair across from me. He slides a glass across the desk, grabbing the bottle of whiskey. “Will I need to start looking for new employment?”
I swirl the contents in my glass; the tension wrapping tight around my ribs. Then, I meet his stare.
“Not a chance. This land will remain Devil’s Ridge.”
Eli leans back, taking a slow sip, considering. “Then we’ve got a few things to sort out.”
I nod, jaw tight. “It was always a mistake not to have a will. But does the county or Judge Harris know there wasn’t one?”
He exhales through his nose, thinking. “Not that I’ve ever heard mentioned. Harris left us alone after your passing; let us figure things out on our own.”
A humorless huff escapes me. “One of the perks of a small town. One judge, too many problems. If it’s not causing trouble, it gets left alone.”
Eli’s expression darkens. “Only now, with that big-shot lawyer poking around, they’re going to come looking for one.”
I lean forward, my voice dropping. “Then we’ll make sure there’s one here.”
His glass stops midway to his lips. “You’re saying we forge a will? Lie to a judge?”
I don’t blink. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
