Safe In His Arms

Numbly Jessie shook her head. “It’s not your fault.”

“I…I just wish I knew more what to tell you,” she said. “All I can remember is that your birth father died before you were born. And your mother died when you were only five. When Malcom brought you home, you were terribly traumatized. Both he and Louise were beside themselves, at a loss how to help you—”

“The nightmares,” Jessie said, her voice trembling.

“Yes, they were horrible. Every night for months you woke up screaming, so frightened. And then the dreams came less often. It was as though you’d put whatever had caused them out of your mind. You even forgot about your mother. I truly believe Malcom and Louise were too afraid to do anything to upset the peace that you’d found.”

Not so peaceful, Jessie admitted silently. The nightmares still haunted her, the latest occurring only days before. Aloud, she murmured, “My parents were always too protective.”

“They loved you, Jessie. They tried to be the best parents they could.”

“I know they did,” Jessie said. The tears she’d fought so hard escaped. They filled her eyes, blurring her vision. She blinked, and a single drop trickled down her cheek. “Now what am I supposed to do?”

“Get on with your life,” Eugenia said, her voice firm yet gentle. Finally she allowed herself to reach for Jessie. She placed a hand on her arm, warming her with a reassuring touch. “Forget about the past.”

“How can I?” Jessie almost laughed at the thought. “I don’t even know who I really am. For God’s sake, how could I have forgotten my own mother…or the first five years of my life?”

“Perhaps there’s a reason for that, Jessie,” Eugenia said, her voice quiet, the warning unmistakable.

Silence filled the lawyer’s office.

The lawyer cleared his throat, cutting through the sudden tension. Adjusting the knot of his tie, he said, “There’s still the matter of the house on Prudence Island, in South Carolina. A place called Gull’s Cottage.”

Jessie frowned in confusion. “Gull’s Cottage?”

“It’s yours,” the lawyer said, holding up the property deed for her inspection.

Jessie stared at the document and wondered what other secrets awaited her.

Wearily Eugenia murmured, “Why Malcom wouldn’t sell the house, I never understood. Once he told me he couldn’t. That it was your legacy.”

“My legacy?”

Eugenia looked at her, regret shining in her eyes. “Gull’s Cottage belonged to your birth mother. It’s the house where you lived before she died.”

A fist of tension gripped Jessie’s chest, making it difficult to breathe. She couldn’t think, couldn’t respond.

“Miss Pierce,” the lawyer said, oblivious to her growing panic. “The taxes have been paid, and the house has been well maintained over the years. All that is left for you to do is decide whether or not you’d like to keep it.”

Shaking her head, Jessie said, “None of this is making any sense.”

“I know, dear. It’s been a long and trying year,” Eugenia said, her tone soothing. “Perhaps now would be a good time to take a vacation. Why don’t you go to Europe or the Caribbean? Somewhere that you can forget all about this and put it behind you.”

As tempting as the thought might be, Jessie knew in her heart she couldn’t run away. No matter where she went, what she chose to do, she could not alter the past. Nor could she allow it to rule her future. “It seems to me I’ve been hiding from my past for too long already. I need to find out the truth…I need to know who I really am.”

Alarm creased Eugenia’s round face. “Darling, I’m not sure if that’s such a good idea.”

“I’m not sure, either,” Jessie admitted. “But it’s something I must do. There are too many questions and not enough answers.”

“Then, why don’t you let someone else handle this problem?” the lawyer suggested. “We could hire a private investigator, a professional to check into your background.”

“No.” Jessie shook her head. “This is something I have to do on my own.”

Eugenia gave an exasperated sigh. “Jessie, why must you be so stubborn? You don’t always have to be independent.”

Jessie brushed a tear from her cheek, smiling despite herself. “Now you’re starting to sound like my mother. Next you’ll be telling me that the only way I’ll be happy is to find a man to settle down with and raise lots of babies.”

“Lord help me, that’s one argument I won’t be a part of. I’ve been a bystander once too often in the clashes you two had over your differences of opinion on men and marriage.”

Jessie’s smile faltered at the memory. Her mother had wanted her to find roots—a husband to love, a home where she could settle down. She’d never understood why a woman of Jessie’s age hadn’t been able to make a relationship last. Why she hadn’t been able to find that perfect man, her soul mate.

Neither did Jessie.

When it came to trusting anyone, especially a man, something always held her back. She’d been unable to make that final commitment.

Perhaps there was a reason for her wariness. A reason that was hidden in her past.

“I don’t know how to explain it. But I’ve lost five years of my life, Eugenia. It feels as though there’s a hole, as though something important is missing.” She picked up the deed to Gull’s Cottage. “Maybe I’ll find what I’m looking for on Prudence Island.”

“And what if you don’t?” Eugenia asked, her silvery brows furrowed with concern.

“Surely I won’t be any worse for trying,” she said, feigning a confidence she did not feel.

The truth was, she had no idea what might await her on Prudence Island. All she knew was that something strong and impossible to resist drew her to the house that was her legacy.

Right or wrong, she was going to Gull’s Cottage.

The thick stands of loblolly pine trees that stood sentinel over the length of the narrow, two-lane road gradually gave way to the graceful stretches of moss-covered live oaks. Sunlight broke through the trees, dappling her arms, warming her skin. With the top down on her BMW convertible, Jessie knew she was getting close to the coastline. A salty sea breeze peppered the sweet, magnolia-scented air.

An unexpected thrill of excitement buzzed in her chest. For the first time in the month since Louise’s death, Jessie had no responsibilities. No lawyers to meet, no estate to settle. She’d even finished the illustrations on the book she’d been commissioned to draw. There was nothing to stand in the way of her quest for the truth. Before the summer’s end, she fully intended to find the answers to her past.

Then, perhaps, she could get on with her future.

Her future…Jessie’s heart thumped with an unwanted bout of trepidation. It wasn’t her financial well-being that worried her. Her adoptive father had been a doctor. Through shrewd investments, he’d been a wealthy man. Now, with both of her parents gone, Jessie had inherited more money than she knew how to spend. Even after seeing to Eugenia’s retirement, her future was financially secure. But she would trade it all, every penny of her estate, just to have her parents back.

Not to be alone.

Pain, sharp and unwanted, jigsawed through her heart, bringing tears to her eyes. She blinked hard, fighting the emotion. Oh, how she missed her mother, more than ever. She had been her best friend, her confidante. There was no one else to turn to, no one to lean on, no one who could explain her confusing past.

No one to make life worth living.

Impatiently Jessie ran a hand through her short, dark hair, trying to shake off the blue funk that threatened. If her mood sank any lower, she chided herself, she’d be stuck in the muck and mire of self-pity. She refused to allow herself to become maudlin. She’d shed enough tears this past month. It was time to stop feeling sorry for herself.

The narrow road curved unexpectedly. She tapped on the brakes, taking the bend fast but still maintaining perfect control. Glancing in her rearview mirror, breathing a quiet sigh of relief, she didn’t notice the beat-up, red pickup truck looming in front of her until it was almost too late.

She slammed on the brakes, causing her seat belt to bite into her shoulder. But it wasn’t enough. Her car still skidded toward a certain collision.

Somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind the will to survive resurfaced with a vengeance. She jerked the wheel sharply to the right, aiming for the side of the road, narrowly missing the slow-moving truck by inches. Her BMW bumped off the pavement, hitting the shoulder with a loud thump. The back end of her car spun out behind her. Crushed seashells crunched beneath the tires. Thick clouds of dust rose up around her, nearly choking her. Before the car finally settled to a wobbly stop, she heard the pop-pop, then the slow hiss of two tires going flat.