Daughters of the Lake(89)

And the windstorm around them became more violent, blowing photos and furniture across the room, whirling and swirling with a feverish, frantic energy. Cries and howls emanated from nothingness, filling the room and their very bodies with the wails and regrets of the dead.

“All of us love Kate, Celeste,” Simon shouted above the din. “Every living thing in this room loves Kate to the very depths of our souls. That is stronger than you. We are stronger than you. Kate is stronger than you. The truth is stronger than you. Go to the light, Celeste. It’s over. It’s time for you to go home.”

Silence, finally, when Harrison stepped close to Celeste, carrying a baby in his arms.

“What are you doing here when it’s her feeding time?” he said, his voice gentle and soft, holding Clementine close to his chest. “Stop tormenting this poor girl and tend to your daughter. That’s what a loving mother should do.”

And with that, Kate fell to the ground in a heap. Alaska was on her in an instant, licking her face. Standing next to the dog’s great head, too faint for any of the men to see her, was Addie. She reached down and stroked Kate’s hair, her violet eyes shining.

“My darling girl,” she whispered into Kate’s ear. “She’s gone. She can’t hurt you. She never could. Never really wanted to. It was the madness, the grief.”

Kate murmured and reached for the great-grandmother she didn’t consciously know was there.

“I’m so proud of you,” Addie said. “Thank you for all you’ve done for me. For us.”

And with that, Addie turned to her beloved Jess and took his hand.

“Look at her, darling,” she said to him. “Our great-granddaughter.”

“She’s beautiful, Addie.” Jess smiled at her. “Just like you. Just like Hadley. Now that this is done, what shall we do today, my love?”

“They’ll be fine now.” Addie straightened. “The whole world awaits.” They turned and walked hand in hand into forever.

Kate reached up to stroke her dog’s soft fur. And then she noticed the three men standing above them.

“What’s going on?” she asked, coughing.

Nick reached down, took Kate’s hand, and helped her to her feet. He pulled her into a hug and held her close. She could feel his whole body shaking. “Thank God,” he whispered, tears of relief escaping from his eyes.





CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

On one particularly windy, chilly day, Kate and Simon, along with Nick and Jonathan, drove up the rocky shoreline to Great Bay, where Addie and Jess had spent their childhoods. Kate had spent the last few weeks doing research into their lives—birth and death records existed, but not much else. She knew both Addie’s and Jess’s fathers had been fishermen, as had their fathers before them. But no relatives existed. Neither Addie’s nor Jess’s parents had more than one child. Both families lost everything that horrible, foggy night on the shores of the lake in Wharton—or believed they had. Young Hadley remained, though out of their view and their knowledge. She had children and grandchildren—a family blossomed out of all that devastation. And nobody knew until now.

Great Bay was not the thriving fishing village that it was when Addie was born. Instead it had become a sleepy tourist town, filled with inns and restaurants dotting the craggy, windswept shoreline. Old houses were torn down, new ones took their places, and time went on, despite the great tragedies that had occurred here.

While Jonathan and Nick checked into the hotel, Kate and Simon visited a small fishing museum that they had heard was there. It contained relics of the fishing village that the town had once been—photographs, mementos, and ships’ logs, as well as items from the town itself. They wandered through the museum’s rooms, soaking in the history, searching for a familiar face among the old, weathered photographs of fishermen displaying their catches, town picnics, and celebrations—life in the once-thriving community.

The curator, a man of at least seventy years of age, his boyish face belied by his graying hair and gnarled hands, approached. “Looking for anything special?” he asked.

“We’ve just learned we had relatives that came from Great Bay,” Kate explained. “We were hoping to . . . I don’t know . . . get a sense of the town as it was a century ago. Maybe find out some more information about our family.”

“What was the family name?” the curator asked.

“There are two,” Simon said. “Cassatt and Stewart.”

The curator shot them a look. “Not the Cassatts and Stewarts involved in the trial . . . ?”

Kate nodded. “The same.”

“But . . .” The curator squinted at Simon and Kate, obviously knowing the Cassatts and Stewarts had no children other than Addie and Jess. Kate held up her hand as if to stop his next words from forming.

“I know,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s complicated, but we are related, there’s no doubt. And we’re really hoping you’ve got some information that will help us find out more about our ancestors. We’re very interested in knowing them.”

The curator nodded his head in the direction of the museum’s back room. “In that case, I think I have something that you might like to see.” He led Kate and Simon to a display of old fishing gear and photos of men with boats full of fish.