“Ah, I forgot about that,” Grant nodded.
“And,” Joy inserted, “Mr. Mason would have swept whatever he could under the rug and probably his parents did the same before him, and so on. Like my grandmother did, only for different reasons.”
“He must be a descendent of Arnold Foster’s sister, then,” Kaine reasoned. “It’s not as if Foster went on to have a family. Gabriella’s baby would have been his only offspring . . . then my grandpa Prescott, my mother, Leah and myself.”
The image of her shifting family tree drew itself in Kaine’s mind. Ivy shifted into a surrogate position, and Gabriella’s name took her place as great-great-grandmother.
Grant shook his head. “I wonder what will happen to Mr. Mason? I sort of pity him. All these years he’s been obsessed with his family name and their legacy. Meanwhile, he’s shriveled into a deceitful old man with no purpose.”
“He’s the antithesis of Ivy,” Joy said, and clucked her tongue.
“No, of what Ivy became,” Grant corrected. “Before Gabriella, it seemed Ivy was on the same path. Consumed with preserving the stories of those who had died instead of living the life God blessed her with.”
Kaine let Grant’s words penetrate her soul. Silence invaded the living room. She watched Grant as he toyed with a leather string tied around his wrist. He had been so faithful to her, so strong when she needed him to be, and had cracked through the walls of protection she’d built around her memories. Kaine moved to the sofa and sank into its cushions, her leg brushed up against Grant’s. He glanced at her in surprise. Kaine met his gaze squarely, purpose in her soul.
“I want to be like Ivy,” she said.
Grant lifted his arm and curled it around her shoulders. She leaned into him, breathing deeply, drinking in one of the first moments of peace she’d had in . . . well, in years.
Joy settled into a chair across from them. “You can, honey. You can begin to heal now,” the older woman comforted. “It’s all over.”
Kaine didn’t want to cry, but the tears burned behind her eyes. Only this time they were healing tears. She blinked. “I’ve never really cried for Danny or for me. I’ve just been running. And now I’m here.”
Grant ran his fingers through her hair. “You’re here. Where you belong. Where your roots are.”
“Where my faith can grow,” Kaine nodded.
“Yeah. Where a lot of things can grow.” Grant thumbed her bottom lip.
Butterflies danced inside her, and a wave of anticipation—of hope—brought a smile to her lips. “For sure,” she promised and relaxed into him, knowing that his friendship and probably more would be a part of her future.
“So what happened to Ivy? After all of this?” Kaine looked between Grant and Joy. “Did she adopt Gabriella’s baby after all? We found that locket in Foster Hill House. Why was it there?”
Joy bit her lip, and when she let up, red lipstick coated her front tooth. “My grandmother told Ivy’s story in her book.” Joy wagged her finger. “Now, none of those doubtful looks. She wrote tiny, and there are extra blank pages in the back. Who knew I was sitting on the answers all these years?”
“And?” Kaine leaned forward. “What did she write?”
Grant tugged her closer, and Kaine yielded. It was so nice to be held, to be cherished, to be safe.
Joy smiled. “You’ll never believe it, but Ivy’s father, Dr. Thorpe, bought Foster Hill House shortly afterward.”
“Why would he want to do that?” Grant shook his head in disbelief. Kaine couldn’t help but agree, although she didn’t say anything.
Joy shifted in her chair. “Well, I should just give you the diary to read, I suppose. But Maggie said it was his way of ensuring the house wasn’t used for evil anymore. Ivy married, and they adopted Gabriella’s baby, Hallie, and Dr. Thorpe lived with them until he died.”
“Hallie!” Kaine straightened. “My sister’s middle name is Hallie.”
“Wow.” Grant raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah,” Kaine said. “The generational connections are becoming clear now.” Finally, the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. “Hallie, Gabriella’s baby, was my great-grandmother.”
“I would bet you anything that hair in Ivy’s locket is Hallie’s,” Grant concluded. “It’s symbolic of Gabriella’s memory and Ivy’s love for Gabriella’s child.”
“And I betcha her locket got lost among the belongings up there in the attic,” Joy added.
“If Ivy lived in a house owned by her father, then that’s why we found her under the Thorpe name in the census,” Grant realized aloud. “Which makes sense, since Ivy wanted to protect Hallie. That’s probably why they ended the family tree in your family Bible. Strike her from as many records as possible. Why let that legacy follow Hallie around? In a way, it’s the same reasoning as what was behind Mr. Mason’s actions.”
“Hmmm, could be,” Kaine nodded. “The census states that Ivy was married to a Joe Coldham, yet Oakwood recorded her as Ivy Thorpe.” On second thought, Kaine hadn’t quite connected the dots of her family tree.
“That’s what her name was when the events took place,” Grant said. “Her married name sort of got lost in your family with the lineage being primarily female. So names would be lost as marriages occurred.”
Kaine sighed. Names, genealogies, with over a hundred years in between? It was easy to get muddled by it all.
Grant adjusted his position on the sofa and reached out to scratch Sophie’s nose as the dog laid it on his knee.
Kaine buried her fingers in Olive’s fur. The black lab had followed her counterpart’s move and rested her muzzle in Kaine’s lap. “Funny,” she murmured, “but I’m tempted to investigate Ivy’s husband’s lineage now. Coldham. It’s a new name to me.”
“Who?” Joy’s drawn-on eyebrows shot up.
“Joe Coldham. He was listed in the census we researched.”
Joy licked the lipstick from her front tooth. “Well, my grandmother’s writing says something totally different. Ivy didn’t marry a Joe Coldham.”
“But that’s what the census says,” Kaine argued.
“Which would you believe, that census or my grandmother’s memory?” Joy waved her hand wildly in dismissal. “You know those old documents with all the scrolly writing? Well, I saw on TV once how last names were often spelled about eight different ways in family trees and government records. Guess that’s one plus for the digital age. Maybe we’ll get things right going forward.”
“Joy is totally right,” Grant agreed. “Some people have careers just interpreting old script.”
“Well then, who does Maggie say Ivy Thorpe married? Who became father to Gabriella’s daughter?”
Joy’s grin was infectious, and Kaine sensed that she wasn’t the only one who had found hope in the shadows of Foster Hill House.
“Oh, Kaine,” Joy breathed, “you’ll never guess. It just might be the most romantic part of this whole sordid business!”
“So tell me!” Kaine said, sharing a curious smile with Grant.