Beyond the Storm (9780758276995) Read online

  “That was our theme. It was called the Forever Yours Senior Ball.”

  “Well, it’s not completely unlikely. It’s not exactly an uncommon phrase . . .”

  “Adam, you don’t get it. The theme—that so-called common phrase? You know who came up with it? It was me. I was on the prom committee, and we all had to submit ideas for the theme. I remember the phrase coming to me in a dream the night after my friends and I spent the day up at the lake. The memory is strong—the water was fierce that day, with strong waves hitting the shore, and it got me thinking. Humans have only a limited time on this earth, but the water . . . the lake, nature, all that surrounds it, it’s for forever. If only we could experience such a thing as forever, that’s what I thought. Isn’t what love is supposed to be, a connection that can’t be broken? That’s how the theme came about. I proposed it the next day and everyone agreed immediately that it was the ideal sentiment. And now here we are, twenty years later, two people who had no business together attending a prom called Forever Yours, reunited and discovering these letters . . .”

  “Meant to be,” he said.

  “Or maybe your silly theory isn’t so silly.”

  “What? That I’m really the living soul of Aidan Barton? And you’re Venture . . .”

  “Venture who? We still haven’t learned her last name.”

  “You think her last name begins with an M?”

  “Don’t you?” she asked.

  “Yeah, at this point, I can’t imagine the alphabet even having twenty-five other letters.”

  “Speaking of more letters. I’m sure we’ll find her name in the letter somewhere. But where do we start? There are hundreds of letters, Adam, he wrote one every week, and he lived for so much longer than Venture.”

  “Easy solution,” he said. “The first one.”

  The moment became a mad scramble with both Vanessa and Adam making their way back to the truth-baring trunk. Adam held the lid up against the wall while Vanessa systematically removed bundle after bundle, setting them on the floor in neat piles. At last she came to the bottom stack, the envelopes appearing to be surprisingly well preserved. They were nearly one hundred years old, they had to be, and yet they were perfectly kept inside the closed air of the trunk. Only the red ribbon wrapped around the stack had frayed, and it easily fell apart at her touch. She left most of the letters of that first stack in the trunk, only the one on the bottom interested her. Because, of course, it was the very first one Aidan wrote.

  “Found it!” she exclaimed.

  “I can only imagine what it has to say . . . actually, I can’t. Who knows what Aidan was feeling when he first started writing the letters? Was he sad, or angry?”

  She thrust the envelope his way. “Only one way to find out—you read it. Adam, if we’re supposed to believe this wild story that you are somehow Aidan Barton’s soul come back from his resting place, then it’s appropriate that you give voice to his words. I’ll listen, just as he intended. The letters were meant for me . . . for Venture.”

  “A little playacting, huh?”

  “Or maybe just something we’re supposed to do.”

  “Now who’s going overboard with this reincarnation stuff?”

  “Adam.”

  “Yes?”

  “Read the letter.”

  He took her advice, settling onto the floor with the letter in his hand. Vanessa sat against the wall just below the window; she could see a streak of moonlight slip through the window, its beam creating a shadow effect on Adam’s face. She thought she could detect fresh lines on his face, the weathered features of a man who lived his life on the rough-hewn sea. Aidan Barton himself had returned to this land, or so she fantasized, and he was at last going to read aloud one of his letters, and its intended was finally sitting beside him, ready, eager, to listen.

  “‘My dearest Venture,’” Adam said, his voice soft and somber, appropriate to the mood they’d created inside the cupola, perfect for the remembrances that emanated all around them. A setting and scenario just as Aidan might have wished for. These were letters of love, and on their pages were words expressed, sealed so long ago, finally about to be spoken.

  And so he began . . .

  “I have come home from my nine months’ journey to the great seas of this world. It was at times a treacherous journey, laced with danger, crackling with fear. Lake Ontario can be a calm body, but once we entered the St. Lawrence Seaway and ventured onward toward the mighty Atlantic, wild winds and storms were our near-constant companions. What kept me going through those rough nights, when it felt almost like the sea would claim our sturdy ship, was the thought of you waiting back in Danton Hill for me. I would think about our secret signal, the third flash of light given upon our return, meant only for you. I knew the day we returned you would see it, you would know that our life together was soon to begin.

  “Life had other plans. Ironically, it wasn’t the sea that took me. It took you. And so I am left with a desolate world without you. But forget you I cannot, and will not. In this letter I commit a promise to you that you will remain in my heart, for as long as I live and beyond, till the moment when the universe sees fit to right this wrong and return us to each other.

  “There is a secret I must tell you. Days after the sea claimed you, I returned to the shores of the lake, perhaps for the first time afraid of its power. The life of a seaman always comes with risk, and of course you learn quickly to respect the place that provides your livelihood. But never had I dreamed it would betray me in such cruel fashion, taking from me the one person whom I valued far beyond my own life. You, my irrepressible, wild-eyed Venture. You never met a challenge you couldn’t handle—until that day. Oh, how your mother railed against the world, against God, when she lost you. She remained that way the rest of her life, despite my efforts in comforting her. ‘Elizabeth,’ I would tell her, ‘we knew our Venture was only truly happy when being defiant, when she followed only her heart and nothing else. She was stubborn, yes, but she was true to herself and to all who had the honor to know her.’

  “I will look after your mother, I promise you that. But I will honor your memory also. Though I’m sure you know this somehow, wherever you are, I’ll tell you anyway. I came to visit you days after the lake had taken you. On the shore, the lake was calm and the sun was brilliant. The kind of day considered a gift from nature. I crouched at the shore, my feet feeling the cold tendrils of the water as I thought about you, about us, and all that we missed out on. And then the strangest of things occurred. Several feet out in the water I noticed something floating atop the gentle waves, and I waded out to the point where I could retrieve it. Imagine my surprise when my hands took hold of your dress, the beautiful violet-colored dress with the red flowers, the one you’d worn for the town social and that drew my eye. That was the day I saw you for the first time as a woman, all grown, and I knew then you would be the love of my life.

  “You did not come back to me that day on the shore, but in the days afterward, you did. It was a message from beyond, a world I could not understand until I was a part of it. So I vowed that day that I would keep secret the return of your dress. It was meant for me. I have wrapped the dress in protective packaging, and I will keep it with these letters, and one day you will read my words and once again the dress will adorn your lovely, lithe self, and at last my Venture will be returned to me.

  “Until then, know that I will not forget you, and neither will your home of Danton Hill. It too lost a true spirit that day, and starting tomorrow you will live forever in the hearts and minds of the villagers. A memorial service will be held for you, and it will take place lakeside. We will speak of your love, your reverence, your love of us, your indomitable spirit. And then we will dedicate the rocky pier that you so loved, and which ultimately claimed you, in your memory. From tomorrow until forever, it will be known as Mercer’s Point.

  “My dear Venture Mercer. You lived with such energy, with such vitality. But yet also with such gent
le, effervescent grace. I will tell you one more secret. Had we been blessed with a child, which was to have been her name. Grace. You would probably object, wanting her to be called Wild or Willful or Fierce, all adjectives that describe you. But a child born of the two of us, she would be unique, nothing short of the very notion of grace.

  “Until the next letter, my Venture, I remain . . .

  “Forever Yours,” Adam concluded.

  Neither knew what to say, and perhaps their silence was best. Leaving Aidan’s perfect words to linger long within the heat of the cupola was almost ideal, the weight of the humidity the only thing able to hold the power of those words. Vanessa wiped away a tear, and Adam sat in a state of shock. There were far too many coincidences here, far too much that linked Vanessa and Adam with Venture and Aidan, with such eerie notions leaving an ominous feeling hovering between them. Time once again meant nothing, and when finally they spoke they couldn’t say how many minutes had passed.

  “Mercer,” Vanessa said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Her name was Mercer.”

  “As in Mercer’s Point.”

  “Do you understand what that means, Adam? For us?”

  “It’s where you took me. Took us—after the prom.”

  “It’s where Elizabeth Grace was conceived.”

  “Elizabeth. She was Venture’s mother.”

  “Grace would have been the child of Aidan and Venture.”

  Again, an unsettling silence grew, the implications of such revelations chilling. They had set out to learn Venture’s surname and learned it they had, but what came with such knowledge was more than they had bargained for. If the day hadn’t already been filled with strange twists, with secrets revealed, Vanessa might be running once again far from the farmhouse, deep into the cornstalks and back into the relative safety of her damaged, rain-soaked car. Was this otherworldly experience really happening, or was it fantasy being fueled by wild imagination? Instead of running, this time Vanessa remained inside the cupola, chilled still while encased in this world of consuming secrets. A participant to a past unleashed.

  Just then she seemed to come out of her funk, a further fact washing over her. “Adam, in his letter Aidan mentioned something about a dress—the one that washed ashore. He supposedly left it inside the trunk, but I don’t remember anything but letters.”

  “Well, let’s look again, now that we know what to look for.”

  Back beside the trunk, Adam again lifted the lid and the two of them peered inside. What they saw was what they had seen earlier, bundle after bundle of letters, their accompanying red ribbons like a series of snakes squirming from the exposed light. There was nothing else to be found. The trunk stared back at them, challenging them to learn its final secret.

  “The lid! Adam, it kept closing, when probably it should have just sprung open. Maybe there’s a hidden panel or . . . I don’t know. Just look!”

  “Okay, okay . . .” He did as she suggested, lifting the lid even higher above them, letting more light reveal what lay underneath. And there, secured among frayed black straps, was a brown paper sack. “You mean that?”

  Vanessa reached in, gently sliding the package from its constraints and into the safety of her arms. The brown paper was faded, the adhesive around its edges long since dried out. It only took a small effort on Vanessa’s part for the tape to give way, the paper opening. Silently Vanessa hoped the air wouldn’t damage what was inside the long-secure package. She would hate for Venture’s prized dress, which had been through so much and had waited so long to see new light, to be destroyed from its exposure to the elements. But, as Vanessa pushed back the brown paper, she held her breath at the lovely sight before her. Yes, the material was old, its edges frayed and delicate. But what held her attention, what caught her breath in her throat and stopped her heart if only for a moment, was perhaps the most surprising moment in a day filled with surprises.

  “Adam . . .” she said, unable to come up with any more words.

  “I see it. I know.”

  “It’s my dress,” she said finally, her fingers touching the soft lace around the edges. “I mean, it’s not an exact match, but the pattern . . . the colors. Look at them. Violet, or maybe purple originally. The color has obviously faded from time, but that floral pattern. Red, like the ribbons wrapped around the letters. The flower in my hair.”

  “The corsage I bought for you.”

  Vanessa’s head turned to him, eyes afire. “My God . . . it’s like you knew. Like it was all meant to be. Danny betraying me just days before the prom, my friends urging you to ask me. I didn’t want to go with you and I had told myself I would say no to you—to anyone—and perhaps if it had been someone other than you asking I would have said no. Life handed me a curve at the end of high school, and I had to decide if I was going to act like a spoiled girl and not go, or grow up and enjoy one of those rites of passage kids are supposed to go through.” She paused, again fingering the soft fabric of the dress. “Venture’s spirit has never been quieted. She never got a proper good-bye, and the fact that Aidan held on to her memory his whole life, it’s like she was denied eternal rest. Has she been restlessly wandering the shores of Danton Hill all these years, waiting for the right time to come back? Am I she? Or just a vessel? Adam, she and I, we have so much in common . . .”

  Adam wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling her neck. “I can’t explain any of this. A simple reunion brought us back home, but there was so much unsaid between us, so many secrets to be revealed, so many unfulfilled wishes between us. I think it’s pretty clear that we are where we are supposed to be—this farmhouse, discovering all that’s been waiting to be found inside. Vanessa, you and I, maybe we weren’t star-crossed lovers from the start, maybe we needed to be ourselves for as long as we could, live our lives and make the mistakes we did, and then when the universe saw fit to reunite us, we were given the chance to recognize the signs . . . given a chance to embrace the things we couldn’t understand. We were pushed into this situation by forces beyond our control. I know none of this makes sense. So perhaps we should stop asking, stop questioning. Perhaps we should just give in to the moment.”

  He leaned forward and placed a sweet kiss on her lips. Her kiss back was fast, urgent, the power inside the cupola fueling a sudden, growing passion between them.

  “Vanessa, come downstairs with me. No more questions. No past, no future.”

  “No,” she said, touching his face, kissing him again. “I think it’s important for the past to be a part of us. Only then will the future reveal itself to us. What tomorrow brings. But you go downstairs first, Adam. I need a minute, just me and these letters. Me, this dress, the memories of Venture and all that she could have had, all that she lost.”

  “I’ll be waiting,” Adam said.

  “Yes, but for whom?” Vanessa asked, and for this time, for this briefest of moments, for all they had experienced and all that they would experience, Adam was unsure of the answer. Still, he left Vanessa alone, gave her a chance to understand herself. Once he was gone, she took hold of the dress, removing it from the package that had kept it secure all these years.

  She draped it against her body.

  The fit was nearly perfect.

  Vanessa felt that inner chill leave her, genuine warmth spreading through her for the first time today. Because for the first time she believed in the idea of something beyond the practical, she believed that in this world existed the unforeseen, the magical. She released doubt and gave in to desire, her mind swirling with images, of Venture dashing along Mercer’s Point, her feet dancing on sharp rocks amidst crashing waves, and of Aidan at his desk, sorrow in his heart as he wrote his impassioned letters to her spirit. That same spirit that was somewhere deep inside her, hidden before, newly revealed. She slipped into the delicate dress and allowed a transformation to occur. Destiny playing out, as only it knew it could. Now, at last, Vanessa was ready to move forward . . . or perhaps, more appropriately, backward.

  T
hat was where a woman named Venture lived.

  CHAPTER 17

  NOW

  Normally the picture of calm, the waters of the great Lake Ontario had been churning all day, its quiet sheen stirred thanks to the fierce summer thunderstorm that ripped across normally peaceful lands. Gentle waves that lapped against the sandy shores of Danton Hill now rushed in, crashing loudly to anyone foolish enough to venture toward the roiling lake. The beach was littered with entrails from the sea, cracked pieces of shells that pierced the wet sand, green strands of weed strewn about like the torn remnants of discarded fabric.

  The sky was dark, with thick, angry clouds hovering above. Occasional bright flashes of lightning swept across the horizon, deadly streaks striking the ground, blowing tree branches to the ground, highlighting ripples against the surface of the warm water. Whatever picnickers had been here earlier, they had all gone to seek shelter elsewhere, leaving the beach deserted and alone. As hard waves jutted up against the sharp rocks of Mercer’s Point, thunder crackled big and loud overhead. Something had stirred Mother Nature; an internal fight between earth and sea had sprung up. It was a perfect storm of time and power, ideal conditions for the return of the sister whom the sea had claimed long ago.

  A vision appeared from nowhere, seemingly conjured from wind and white gossamer, her fresh presence still hesitant, ghostlike. Effortlessly gliding over rippling water, she appeared briefly to hover over the slick, sharp stones of the place named in her honor before moving to the safety of the land. Once clear of Mercer’s Point, her footprints barely made an impression in the cool sand as she glided with focused determination. She’d heard her name spoken from some deep recess of the world, a place from which she’d waited for the call from destiny. Locked inside her were stories untold, meant to be sealed forever but now opened to reveal their inner truth, their unique embrace.

  On her body magically appeared the familiar dress, returned to her as though through the power of forgotten dreams. Its once-vibrant colors of red and violet were long faded, but still she would know its contours anywhere. She remembered the way it draped against her lithe body that morning she’d gone to greet him at the lake’s edge. How it had hung from her door frame while she slept, waiting more patiently than she possibly could for morning’s arrival. How long ago that had seemed, yet how familiar the image was to her. Her arms outstretched, the fabric flowing in the wild wind, it was almost like the currents took hold of her, lifted her forward, her spectral self-guided toward an unknown destination.