That first night in my new bed, I had the dream of the woman who called me Jonathan. When I woke, the words of the lullaby still echoed through my mind. If that mockingbird don’t sing, Mama’s gonna by you a diamond ring.

  II

  Summer 1910

  10

  Wesley

  * * *

  The news of my father’s death came in the form of a telegram from my sister.

  Father dead. Heart failure. Mother in Florida. Arrived last night. Please come home. Bring Roland.

  My father was dead. It didn’t seem possible that the devil had perished. I couldn’t imagine the world without him, actually.

  We’d been discussing what to make for our bachelor dinner later that night when a knock on the front door had drawn our attention.

  Now, I let the paper flutter to the floor as I turned to look at my friend, who had one knee on the window seat and one eye pressed against the spy glass. Dressed casually in a shirt that stretched across his wide shoulders, he hardly resembled the scrawny boy he’d been when we’d first met at school. Building our cottages had made us strong.

  “Who was at the door?” Roland asked, still looking through the spy glass. With light-brown hair perpetually tousled over his forehead, he appeared careless and irresponsible, but this was not the truth of his character. In truth, he was steady, even-tempered, and strong as an ox, both in spirit and body.

  “Telegraph. My father’s dead. Heart failure.”

  Roland jerked away from the spy glass and turned to look at me. “What?” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers. His sympathetic eyes matched the sea outside the window. “I’m sorry doesn’t seem like the right thing to say.”

  “Lillian says Mother’s in Florida.” I sat down, heavy, on the bench. “I don’t know if she’ll come back for his burial or not.” I turned back to my beloved sea. A fishing boat was anchored not far from shore. “She says for me to bring you.” Despite the news and my tumbling thoughts, I smiled. “Not surprisingly, of course.”

  Roland sucked in his cheeks as he sat down on the window seat. “You know, then?”

  “No man loves the post office as much as you.” He and my sister wrote to each other every week. Every Friday morning, he drove into town and came back smiling. I could easily imagine him ripping open the envelope and reading it slouched against the side of the building.

  He grimaced. “I couldn’t stop myself. The months we all spent together last summer—well, I was done for.”

  “Why haven’t you said anything?”

  “I wasn’t sure how you’d feel. She’s your sister. And young.”

  My decent, decent friend. “Not too young for you.”

  “Yes, but look at me. What do I have to offer? No profession. Living on her brother’s land.”

  I moved to the window to stand beside him. The skies were blue over the ocean as white-capped waves crashed to shore.

  “None of that matters if she loves you,” I said.

  “What do you think? About her and me.”

  “I think it’s fine. Very fine. If you love her, that’s all that matters to me. I know the man you are.”

  “It’s easy for you to think that way. You’re rich.”

  True enough. I couldn’t argue with him. I hadn’t been at school a month when I received news of two deaths. Dax wrote to me that Atlas had passed peacefully in his bed by the fire. I’d already mourned him so much by then, but still, it hit me hard. Roland had been sympathetic and had not ridiculed me for crying.

  The other news came a month later and changed the trajectory of my life. My mother’s father had died. To everyone’s surprise, he’d left the bulk of his fortune to me. I couldn’t understand why. I’d never met the man. Mother had not spoken to him since her marriage to my father. Apparently, he wanted to keep his wealth in the family.

  “Regardless of wealth, certain souls are meant to be together,” I said.

  “My heartbeat changed the moment I met her and has never been the same.” He looked over at me. “Do I have your blessing?”

  I brushed away his question with a brusque retort. “We’re already brothers. What more could I ask for?”

  “You’re growing soft in your old age.”

  I laughed. “True enough.”

  Roland shifted slightly, tucking one foot around his opposite ankle. The sunlight through the windows spilled into the room. “Are you sure you want to go home? It’s been almost six years, and you’re all the better for it. Maybe let them bury him and say good riddance.”

  “I would, but Lillian needs me. Us.”

  He smiled faintly. “She really did ask for me?”

  I didn’t answer, simply rolled my eyes.

  Father had forbidden me to come home during my years at school. I was happy to stay away, even though I missed Dax and Mollie. Holidays I spent with Roland’s family. We’d spent summers working on campus doing janitorial and outdoor tasks. One summer, we’d aided the shop teacher in making new desks and repairing classrooms that had suffered from a broken pipe during a cold snap. Our woodworking skills had improved so much that summer that our teacher had humbly declared we had surpassed his ability to teach us. Of all the things we learned in school, our carpentry and finishing skills might have been the most important.

  Once a term, Mother had taken the train to see me. During her first visit, she’d admitted that she and Father were living apart. They’d decided to keep the estate and staff but made sure to never be there at the same time. Mother, oddly enough, had gone down to Florida to visit friends and decided to stay part of the year. She’d purchased a bungalow near the beach.

  Last summer, after we’d finished Roland’s house, I’d sent for Lillian, having spoken to Mother about her staying with me until it was time to return to school. She’d stayed for almost three months. Pale, sickly Lillian was no longer. She’d become strong and beautiful at school, growing in confidence and soaking up praise from the music teacher.

  We’d all spent a lot of time together during her visit, but the two of them had managed to sneak off alone for walks down at the beach or to sit on Roland’s sun porch to watch the sunset. I suppose, if truth were told, they were not sneaking, since I purposely left them alone. Roland was too fine a man to take advantage of my sister. I knew his intentions were pure. He wanted to make her his wife. I’d assumed they’d be engaged by summer’s end.

  She’d been about to set out when Father died.

  “Do you think she’ll like it here?” Roland asked. “I mean, if she decides I’m for her. The winters, you know.”

  “She’ll be warm wherever you are.”

  When we were seventeen, Roland and I had taken a train trip up to Maine to visit another of our classmates. We’d both been entranced by the blue of the ocean and the crispness of the air. Our classmate had taught us how to boil lobsters and crack open their shells for the succulent meat.

  We’d made a pact. When we left school, I would buy land near the little town of Castaway. Together, we would build cottages for each of us. The moment we graduated from school, we headed out together. A twenty-acre piece of land on a bluff over the ocean was available for purchase. I didn’t hesitate.

  As planned, Roland and I had used our carpentry skills and built a cottage. After a long winter, we built a second one for him. They were not large or fancy but cozy and comfortable. We loved every inch of them.

  Now that we’d built our homes, we were pondering different business ideas. Roland wanted to open a new kind of shop in Castaway, one that sold produce and meats in addition to the traditional dry goods. “One place for everything,” he said when he’d told me the plan. Anyone else he told the idea to immediately dismissed it as reckless and almost scandalous. How outrageous for a young man to be so bold. However, I believed in him completely and had offered him a loan. So far, he’d refused. As good-natured and generous as he was to others, he was equally stubborn. He refused to take a loan, saying that the property and his cottage had been enough of a gift. Thus, we were at a stalemate.

  My father was dead. I thought I should feel something more, but the truth was, when I’d left home, I’d put him away inside a locked box in my mind.

  “Do you ever think about the girl? Luci?”

  Roland watched me with the eyes of a discerning man who knew me much too well.

  “Sometimes.”

  “Tempted to visit her while we’re there?” Roland asked.

  “That would make me ridiculous, wouldn’t it?”

  Roland grinned. “You’re the one who believes in soulmates.”

  “I was so certain that her destiny and mine were intertwined.” I chuckled. “But I was a kid back then. An overly romantic one at that. And we’d only met that one time.” I’d thought of her often in the years since I’d been away. I could recall the exact color of her eyes that had peered back at me. The jolt of it, the feeling that I was meant to be with her, was there too. Dax hadn’t mentioned her in his letters unless I asked. He’d always written back with a brief line or two that they seemed to be doing well. Like he was in person, Dax was a succinct communicator. No wasted words.

  “Dax has written that she’s done well and what a clever girl she is. He taught her how to plant and care for a vegetable garden. Doesn’t know how she grows anything in that hard dirt, but she manages.” I watched a speck of dust dance in the sunlight. “I might drop by to say hello.”

  “If I were a betting man, which I’m not, I’d guess she’d like to thank you for sending Dax over there to help. Who knows what might have happened to them had you not done so? Maybe it’s God’s way of getting you back there.”

  “Now who’s being romantic?”

  “You’ve influenced me over the years, which I find irritating.” Roland stood. “If we’re going today, we best get packed and on our way. Are we driving or taking the train?”

  “We’ll take the motorcar.”

  “I’ll be ready in half an hour.”

  “Don’t hurry on my account.” I smiled.

  “Very funny.”

  Late the next afternoon, Roland and I arrived at my family’s estate. Nothing appeared to have changed. The grass was green, and flowers bloomed in the front beds.

  I parked and got out of the car. My long legs had cramped during the drive. Roland did the same, stretching his arms over his head. The front door flew open, and Lillian came running out and across the lawn. “You’re here, thank goodness.”

  She threw herself into my arms. I held her tightly for a moment before stepping away and taking her hands. She wore a cream-colored dress with a sailor collar and a dropped waist, which had become so popular. Her thick ginger hair was arranged at the base of her neck.

  She stepped toward Roland, hazel eyes shining. “Hi, you.” My sister was petite and looked even more so next to my tall friend.

  “Hello, you.” He snatched his hat from his head and held it against his chest, staring at her as if he’d forgotten my existence.

  She ducked her head as her cheeks reddened. “I’ve waited so long to see you, and now I don’t know what to say.”

  Roland flashed his infectious smile. “Not to worry. I do. You’re beautiful. Even more so than the last time I saw you.”

  “Thank you. You’re looking well yourself.” She turned to me. “Are you ready for this?”

  “How’s it been?” I asked. My sister had been home a few times over the years, but only when Mother was home.

  “This house of horrors keeps on in its usual manner.” Lillian frowned as she clutched the sailor collar of her dress and looked from one of us to the other. “Mother sent a telegram that she won’t arrive for at least a week. She said to bury him without her.”

  Roland and I exchanged a glance.

  “We’ll take care of it, then,” I said. “And then we’ll be on our way.”

  “I’m so worried about Dax and Mollie,” Lillian said. “Mother says she’s selling the house. And June—what will she do? Plus, there’s the cook. She’s French and seems temperamental. Mollie’s been beside herself waiting for you, Wesley. Dax too, even though he didn’t say as much.”

  “Selling the place?” This surprised me. “I thought she’d want to stay since he’s gone for good.”

  “She said she’d explain everything when she gets here. It was very mysterious.” Lillian gestured toward the house. “You must be thirsty from your long drive. We’ve put Father in the parlor, which is ghastly. I’ve never known anyone to die before, and I’m sure I’ve bungled everything.”

  Roland reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his handkerchief, which he pressed into Lillian’s hand. “We’re here now.”

  “I’m so glad you boys came.” Lillian wiped at her eyes. “Now, come inside. Mollie had Etta, the new cook, make up sandwiches and lemonade for us. Mollie says she has a terrible temper and hates to make meals at odd times, so I hope they’ll be fit to eat.”

  With a pang, I thought of Mrs. Walker. However, as Dax had assured me, she’d come out just fine after her abrupt dismissal. Mollie had found her a position with one of the other wealthy families, where she remained to this day. On the other hand, our house had gone through three cooks since Mrs. Walker’s dismissal. From what Mollie had told us, Father always found some fault with them. One of them, he’d accused of trying to poison him.

  We grabbed our bags from the car and then walked with Lillian across the front lawn to the screened porch and through the front door. My eyes took a moment to adjust to the dim hallway. Same white wainscoting and dark wood paneling. The parlor was to the right. I couldn’t help myself. I had to look. Heaps of roses were draped over a closed coffin.

  “Closed?” I asked.

  “Yes. It’s best. He’d gotten all red and puffy. Poor Mollie, she was the one to find him. She said he was slumped over the desk with his face in a piece of berry pie. At first she thought it was blood. Isn’t that awful?”

  A shiver went up my spine. There were too many bad memories lurking here.

  “Anyway, come along to the sitting room. I have a surprise for you.”

  We followed her down the hallway. The sitting room had always been my favorite room in the house. It was less formal than the parlor, with tall windows that let in light all times of the year. My sister’s baby grand piano still took up one corner of the room, shiny and black in the sunlight. Shelves filled with books lined one wall.

  My heart leapt into my throat at the sight of a dog who looked remarkably like Atlas had as a puppy. “Whose is this?”

  “Mollie said Gus appeared the morning Father died,” Lillian said. “She thinks someone dropped him here, hoping we’d give him a good home. Doesn’t he look just like Atlas?”

  “He does,” I said.

  Currently, Gus napped in a spot of sunlight. As I drew closer, he raised his head and stared at me for a moment, then leapt to his feet, tail wagging. I knelt to pet him and looked into those sweet brown eyes. I swear it seemed as if no time had passed and this was my Atlas.

  “Hello, Gus. Pleased to meet you.” He was so excited his entire body shook. I petted him and scratched behind his ears like Atlas had loved. Apparently, Gus did too. Or was it Atlas in a new, young body? Don’t be ridiculous, I thought.

  Gus licked my face. “Is it you, old boy?” I whispered. He barked and wagged his tail harder. “Did you come back for me?” He sat on his haunches and offered his paw for a shake. “How’d you know how to do that, you clever pup?”

  “Ah, it’s my lad come home.”

  I turned toward the voice of the man I’d missed for nearly six years. My chest ached with love as I rose to greet him. He wore his usual gardening attire and held his hat in his hand. The years had been kind to him. He looked no older than the last time I’d seen him.

  Dax’s eyes shone with tears as he pulled me into a quick embrace. “You look good. All grown. Taller than me.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ve brought my best friend, Roland Harris.” I introduced them, and they shook hands.

  “Welcome, Roland. Lillian has been telling us all about you now, hasn’t she?” Dax asked.

  “Dax, don’t go telling all my secrets,” Lillian said. “A proper young lady doesn’t speak of such things.”

  Roland laughed. “I’m glad to be a subject of conversation when it’s coming from your mouth.”

  “Well then, you’ll be quite glad,” Dax said, teasing. “She hasn’t stopped speaking of you.”

  “Dax, you’re terrible.” Lillian’s cheeks glowed pink. She was happy, I thought. This was my sister, glowing and in love. The frail little girl she’d once been seemed only a ghost of a very distant past.

  Gus had caught sight of his tail and did three circles in pursuit.

  “Do you see how he resembles Atlas?”

  “I do. How did you find him?” I asked.

  “That’s a long story,” Dax said. “Which Mollie will want to tell you.”

  As if summoned, Mollie entered the room with her usual hard-heeled gait. She started to cry at the sight of me. “Oh, dearie, you’re home at last.”

  I embraced her. She smelled of lavender, as she always had. “Mollie, don’t cry. We’re back together now.” Her black hair had more white, but like her husband she had aged well. She was as plump and pink and robust as she’d always been.

  Her eyes narrowed as she inspected me from head to toe. “You’ve grown very handsome.” She patted my shoulders. “Such muscles. Your eyes are as pretty as ever. I hope your outer beauty hasn’t gone to your head.”

  I grinned over at Roland. “I have my friend here to make sure I stay humble.”

  She let go of me to greet Roland. “And this is Roland. Goodness me, aren’t you a large one?”

  “Nice to meet you,” Roland said, eyes twinkling. “I’ve heard many Mollie stories over the years.”