Written in the Stones: Cairnhaven, #1

By Jennifer Diamond

The first in the Cairnhaven series, Written in the Stones shatters Allison Stevensen's life with the death of her parents, but with their passing, the story of her true history and destiny launches from the Seattle of right here and now into magical battles affecting mankind's history and future.  What happens to us all is in her hands as she chooses how much of her legacy to accept and when the only answer is to follow her heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Maypop Grove, LLC
• Release date: Dec 9, 2019
• ISBN: 9781951923006

Jennifer Diamond

Jennifer Diamond made her own Seattle journey years ago to listen to the Emerald City tell its stories and learn how to lay them down on the page.  This novel, the first of the Cairnhaven series, opens a wee glimpse to the struggle behind the struggle, and the heroes we’ll never see, unless we are so invited.

Book preview

Prologue

SUMMER MORNINGS ARRIVE early in Discovery Park, sunlight streaming through the trees.  Father Patrick McClure paced himself along the trails.  Silvered brown hair sweat-plastered to his head, he breathed steadily and easily, covering familiar ground.

He ran the same seven-mile trail every morning, along the shore around Magnolia, up on the bluffs above Elliot Bay and the Seattle skyline, to the far side of the peninsula overlooking the Sound.  Nothing restored faith each day like a stiff dose of nature’s elements.

Seagulls swirled overhead when McClure finally reached the beach at the north end of the park.  The damp sand packed under his feet at the tide line.  He pushed himself into his last sprint before the one-mile cool-down hike back to his car. 

When I’m sixty-four still rattled around in his head from the impromptu party the parish staff threw for his birthday party last week.  The priest checked his heartrate monitor, cool-down right on schedule.  More disappointment for Doc Larsen, who didn’t want to hear from a priest about faith and clean living.  A good clogged artery would make his day, but the priest just wouldn’t deliver.

Finishing his walk at the parking lot, empty except for the church’s Saturn sedan, he stripped off his drenched University of Washington sweatshirt as he approached the car.  Home for shower and then back out to his Monday senior center rounds.  Visiting friends.

Just as he pulled the shirt over his head, a cold burst of wind swirled through the parking lot, whipping the leaves and chilling the air.  In just seconds, dark clouds rushed in to fill the sky, obscuring the clear blue and sunny morning. Gulls screeched, broke formation, and streaked away.

McClure frowned up at the clouds. The peace of his morning run slid away. He fished his keys from his pocket, the hairs on the back of his neck tingling.  Off to the left out of the corner of his eye, something moved in the brush. He spun, his back to the car, searching the woods that surrounded the lot.  But there was nothing to see, nothing to hear.  He paused, scanning.

Ridiculous. Here he was, a representative of faith in the goodness of the world, and he was as skittish as a long-tailed cat at a bowling alley.  He chuckled. A quick thank-you to the heavens, he turned back to the car, keys in hand.  Intentionally replacing the Beatles with something more appropriate, he started whistling the opening to What a Friend we have in Jesus, clicking the unlock button on the remote.

A charcoal smudge of a form low to the ground shot from the woods behind him, plowing across the gravel, leaving plumes of dust and leaves in its wake.  Before he could even turn around, it sharpened and elongated, and in a blur like a thrown spear, it embedded itself in the center of his back.  Once piercing him, it melted into an oily film that spread quickly across his body.

Father McClure was enveloped in less than seconds while he screamed sharply, then was suffocated, the black pouring into his mouth, nose and eyes.  He scratched urgently then feebly at his face, writhing, and finally crumpled to the ground, still.  Slowly, the clouded darkness receded from him and sank into the gravel beneath the car, leaving him behind, hands clutching his chest, eyes staring sightlessly into the again blissfully blue sky.

One

ALLISON LOOKED LIKE crap. 

She was trying to hide it, with all the trappings of an elegantly reserved professional young woman, hair skimmed back and up, sleek suit lines, and spare but perfect makeup.  But the dark shadows under her brown eyes and the way the suit hung limply from her shoulders angered him.  He’d known her too long to see her like this and not be pissed off.

Good morning, Uncle Chuck.  Even her voice was flat. 

Hey there, sweetie.  Charles Harper tried to stall.  You sure you’re up to this now?  There’s nothing that has to be dealt with this minute.

She accepted a cup of coffee from his secretary, settling herself into one of his leather guest chairs.  For a heartbeat, he could forget and see just another high-profile client being comforted by the traditional ambience of Harper, Mills and Green, Attorneys at Law.  The downtown Atlanta building, the leather, the mahogany paneling, the bookcases loaded with obscure codes of law entrusted to him, Charles Harper, Esq., to know and understand.  Then a wan smile touched Allison’s face as she glanced at the colorful woven rug on the office floor, and all traces of objectivity fled.

Well, it’s a far cry from paper dolls down there with Sarah, when we were six, isn’t it? But I’m ready.  Wistful, but stoic.  Who could have ever known, would have wanted to know, that she could sound this way.  He swallowed hard.  He was here to do a job, albeit for someone he loved like his own daughter.

Even before going down to Scottsdale to identify the bodies, he had done some of the basic notifications and early paperwork.  After that, he read through the will and codicils. Most of it was predictable; donations to charities, dispensation of stock holdings, titles and deeds to the various property holdings.  Most of it went straight to Allison.  And now, a month after the plane crash, it was time to walk her through it.

If you’re sure, honey, then we can get started.  He passed her a slim file.  Here’s a summary of the will’s dispositions that Joan worked up.  I’ve got all the details here if you want any of them, he pointed to the stacked files behind him on the credenza, but this breaks it down.  She took the file and opened it, scanning the first page.  Her eyebrows rose.

Chuck nodded.  Yup, there was quite a bit there, and your dad took every dime into account.  You pretty much don’t have to work if you don’t want to, and you can stay in the house if you want, or you can sell it.  And by the way, we’ll be closing on your condo in about two weeks.  You did great in this market, but I was surprised you wanted to sell.

Ethan thought it would be a good idea since I moved back into the house anyway, she said.  Thanks for arranging all of it.  It just didn’t make sense to keep it, what with the wedding plans and all.

Well, that does lead me to the next thing here, Allison. Chuck paused.  Your dad put a codicil on your inheritance.   Her eyebrows rose.

There were some bizarre instructions mixed in with a pretty straightforward will package.  The codicil was one of them.  Chuck didn’t know what his best friend had been thinking, and knew damned well that Emily didn’t know a thing about it.  If she had, she’d have beat her husband up one side and down the other, as only a Southern wife can when her husband interferes with nice and settled wedding plans.

Allie, I’m not sure why Hank felt this was necessary, but if you want the inheritance, you can’t get married for six months after his death. He only added it to the will a few months ago, back in April, and I didn’t know about it until I went through everything.  It turns out he came in while Sarah’s mom and I were on vacation.

Chuck braced himself.  She would indignantly protest with some choice words about a father not approving of her fiancé even from beyond.  She wouldn’t spout fire like his own Sarah would, so much like her mother, but Allie would still have a lot to say, and he didn’t really want to argue.

But she wasn’t protesting.  He had absolutely no idea what she was thinking, sitting there across from him with a small smile on her lips, and too sad, too wise eyes.  She played with the respectably chunky diamond ring on her finger. My father knew me better than I thought.  I should be mad, but with what’s happened lately, I’m actually grateful for it.  It will make a few things easier.

Chuck was bewildered. Ethan was a good guy, along with his buddy Tyler, up-and-comers in a high profile professional services firm, part of the crew that Allison and Sarah seemed to collect ever since their Duke days.  It was natural when the girls chose these two to date.  And then just last week Sarah told her dad that Ethan had asked and Allison had answered, happy for her friend and just hoping that Helen wouldn’t start pushing for a double wedding.  Mrs. Harper could be determined, too.

And now this was a bad thing? Shows what he knew.  Maybe Helen had a clue.  He’d ask her when he got home tonight. 

I won’t pry, Allie.  He smiled gently.  Not my department, not with my daughter and my wife around.  Allie laughed softly in response.  He shook his head, turning back to the paperwork.  Besides that, you don’t have a thing to worry about.  Our offices will manage the escrow on the assets that were liquidated and endowed to charities.  He flipped through his own copy of the summary.  Then there are some bequeaths to friends and other folks.  The house staff are taken care of, and I’ve got a list of the pieces of jewelry your mom wanted given to certain people.  He glanced at the next page in the file.  I tell ya, she was a smart lady on that one.  Some of those pieces are worth a hell of a lot, and by giving them as gifts and not cash, she really helps those folks out on avoiding taxes. 

Chuck looked up at Allie and seeing that she now gazed out his window, the file loose in her hand, he stopped himself.  Allie was a smart and capable businesswoman in her own right, and in the past few years he had begun to think of her less as a child and more as a respected colleague. But here, right now, she was a dear friend’s grieving daughter. Forgetting that for even a minute proved that he didn’t want to deal with this any more than she did. 

He tried to focus. Anyway, it’s all there.  She started, and then looked down at the file again.  Just let me know if you have any questions. 

How was he going to lead into the rest of it?  The sealed envelopes Hank had left for him along with that damned cryptic letter after the usual if you’re reading this I am gone opener. 

...Emily and I never told you the whole story about Allison.  She’ll need some help to be ready for what’s coming.  I’ve made some preparations, but her mother always insisted that she not be told sooner, and I’ve abided by that.  That means Allison is going to have a lot of catching up to do, and I’m determined that it be managed, even if I’m not there. I need you to follow my instructions to the letter, and let each thing happen as it’s meant to.

And with that, he had the envelopes, one for him and one for Allison, both noted with Only if Allison Asks with instructions to wait one month.  Then that last little envelope that said Open Last.  Really strange. 

Chuck had no clue what this could all be about, either.  All of the paperwork, birth certificates, marriage certificate, was in order. Chuck himself had drafted the will, with the exception of the late additions.  What unfinished business could there be?

Across from him at the desk, Allison scanned the file in her hands, but with her next words it became clear she was barely reading, and that maybe Hank had known what he was doing.

Uncle Chuck, I have a weird question for you.  She closed the file and set it on the desk and then shook her head.  The next words came out in a rush as she leaned forward and looked him in the eye.

Was there anything else, any letters or something that they left that I should read? From Dad, maybe?  Did you come across anything?  I tried to go up to the attic on Saturday but didn’t get very far. 

She took a breath and sat back, her shoulders sinking a little.  I just feel like there’s something, something else I’m supposed to know.  She sounded so small, but so sure.  And right on time.  Chuck sighed, and opened his desk drawer to pull out the three envelopes.

Well, you knew your father even better than I did, honey, and it seems he did know you, too.  I have these, and a letter from him telling me to wait a month and wait until you asked.  I thought the whole thing pretty strange, and there aren’t any legal loose ends I can see.  But here you are, it’s a month and you’re askin’. 

He laid them out on the desk.  One for me, one for you, and another one that doesn’t say other than to open last. If you really want to get into this now— he looked up at her and she nodded gravely. 

He slid the one with her name on it across to her and handed her a letter opener.  He then reached for the one addressed to him, pulling out his penknife.  He sliced the top of the envelope and found several pieces of stationary with Hank’s sloping handwriting on it wrapped around another document.  Closing the knife and slipping it back into his pocket without even thinking, Chuck smoothed out the pages and began to read the official-looking document on top.

Allie, this is a deed to a house, in your name.  She looked up, only just having opened her envelope. It’s for a house in Washington.  Hank had no dealings in Washington.  Why would he have a house there?

Well, maybe it had something to do with government stuff, and you know how he hated hotels.  Maybe he bought a house there to stay in when he was up there working with lobbyists.

"No, honey, not that Washington.  The house is in Seattle, Washington." 

What?  What’s in Seattle?

I have no idea.  What the hell had Hank been up to?  Chuck couldn’t help but feel a little offended that he hadn’t been in the loop, then caught himself. Peeved at the dead?  Really. He gave himself a mental shake.  I think we need to read on.  Chuck turned to the letter, which was dated in April, the same time as the deed and additions to the will.  Hank had been busy this spring.

Chuck, if you’re reading this, then I’ve been gone about a month, and odds are good Emily has too. On that one, don’t ask me how I know, I just do. You’ve got the deed, and you’re wondering what the hell is going on.  I’m sorry, old buddy, that I never told you any of this.  Emily made me promise, and you know I could never refuse that woman anything.

Chuck grinned.  That explained it pretty well.  Emily Stevensen was the embodiment of steel fist in a velvet glove, even if in her case you added fine lace.

Remember when we lost touch for a few years while I was in ‘Nam after college? Late in ’67, I got hurt and got sent to a med camp for about three months. It was pretty touch and go for a while, and I got to know the folks that took care of me pretty well. 

There was a doctor there, Dr. River, who spent a lot of time with me, which was amazing because of just how many wounded made their way through his hands.  Still, he found time, and we got to be friends.  Right about when they were getting ready to release me back to duty, he and I had a drink late one night.

Chuck was puzzled.  This was a neat story and all, but what the hell did it have to do with Allison? 

Over that drink, Dr. River and I came to an understanding.  He was a conscientious objector, but also a patriot, which was why he was a medic.  A really spiritual guy, he had a lot of notions about free choice, the patterns of the world and the role we all play.  Me, I’m a pragmatist and always have been, but he saved my life and my legs when everyone else was willing to send me off on the morphine expressway to heaven, so I had to give him some credit. 

We bonded like you do when you owe someone your life in a place thousands of miles from home. Finally healed, I told him if he ever needed anything, he knew where to find me.  I remember how oddly he looked at me and said, I just might have to take you up on that.  I was returned to duty a few days later.

When my tour was over and I was back stateside, Emily and I got married.  You were there for that, more my brother than any the mother I never knew could have given me, and you know that two orphans making their way in the world found each other and were happy. We set up house and I got on with the business of providing for us.

Chuck snorted.  Providing?  He had never seen a fortune grow from nothing faster before or since those days when Hank got a germ of an idea about telephones and computers and turned it into an eventual empire.  Yup, Henry Stevensen had providing down.

Not everything was rosy, though. During the summer of ’69, Emily really hit a hard patch when she learned that she couldn’t have children.

Chuck froze.  What?  Allison was sitting right in front of him!  He looked up at her, and then what he was seeing registered.  She was reading her own letter, tears pouring down her face. 

Damning himself for not paying attention, he handed her the tissue box on his desk. Allie, are you okay?  What does it say?  I’m almost through mine, but I can stop.

No, Uncle Chuck, the first thing he said was that we were supposed to read them through first and then talk about it. She sniffled, grabbed a tissue and blew her nose. I’m going to be okay. She took a sip of coffee and turned back to the pages she held.  He did the same, more confused than ever.

We tried everything that was available at the time, and she almost didn’t make it, but somehow, for the next few years, she found things to occupy her and take her mind off it.  She refused to adopt, though, so that was that.

September 21, 1972 was a pretty normal Atlanta day, pretty, no real sign of fall yet, and I did the usual morning things of getting up early, going for a run, reading the paper, and mid-morning the doorbell rang.  Emily was getting ready for some community luncheon thing, so I went to the door.

Chuck, it sounds like something out of a really stupid movie, but there was a basket on the doorstep, and yup, there was a baby in there. She was the prettiest thing you ever saw, and from the moment I laid eyes on her, I fell in love.  I brought her in, yelled for Emily, which of course woke the baby up, and instead of crying, the little thing just looked up at me and smiled. 

Emily came down the stairs, saw what I was holding, and of course went into hysterics, right up until the second she looked into the baby’s eyes, at which point she stopped dead, a smile crossed her face, and she turned to me.  Well, I think we just met our daughter.  It was done. Just like that.

In the basket with our new little girl was a note, addressed to The guardians.  I figured that was us, now.  All it said was that our job was to protect the child, keep her safe, and make her one of us for as long as possible.  That sounded ominous, of course, but I guessed that meant that someday she’d want to know more, but for now, she was here and that was just fine with me.

There was also a packet tucked in the basket that looked like it had gone around the world three times, part of it stuck to the bottom of someone’s shoe.  It was addressed to me.  Inside was an Army notice that the envelope it was wrapped around was to be sent to me in the case of Dr. River’s death, which was recorded six months earlier, no details.  Inside that envelope was a bunch of papers, with a note on top from Dr. River.  All it said was I’m taking you up on your promise.  The papers were a collection of stuff, account records and the like, all for banks in Seattle.  It didn’t make much sense, and at the very back was a single page that said, If you receive this, please send a letter stating so to the following address: and it listed a lawyer’s office in Seattle.  I did, and frankly thought no more of it and got on with the business of being a new dad.

We worked some legal magic, and the beautiful baby girl became a Stevensen.  The funny thing was, no one ever questioned how we suddenly had a daughter.  It just seemed like everyone who saw the baby looked into those big brown eyes and just accepted that she was ours.

Chuck thought about that for a minute.  Hank was right.  Now that he thought about it, Chuck really couldn’t remember Emily being pregnant, or an adoption, but he had no question in his mind that Allison was Hank and Emily’s child.  He only remembered seeing her and Sarah side-by-side as infants, and commenting on how much they both looked like their beautiful mothers. He shook his head and kept reading. 

Emily and I handled it differently over the years.  I worked the angles with the law office in Seattle.  They helped with the adoption papers, issuing a new birth certificate, which at the time I didn’t even know was irregular, and setting me up as a signator on some odd accounts in Seattle so buried that even Joe couldn’t find out where they went.

Chuck’s eyebrows rose.  If an accountant like Joe Harbinger couldn’t figure out an account’s source then it might as well be a Lichtenstein by way of the Caymans situation.  Just like Hank to try.

The law office was particularly unhelpful, though, in telling me who the baby was, why she was given to our care, or what happened to her family. All they said was that Dr. River trusted me.  And when I went to the Army about him, they couldn’t find a single record showing he had ever been there.  I finally made a trip out to Seattle, and when I found the address of the offices, it turned out to be the Seattle Arboretum. I was more confused than ever, but distracted because of Emily.

See, Chuck, Emily was determined to believe that the baby, who we named Allison, was ours, by birth.  She had never really gotten over not being able to have children, and she convinced herself that Allison was really ours, that she had borne her, and even had decided she remembered giving birth up over at Northside in a private suite. She didn’t want to hear anything about what I was finding out, or even a word about the day we got her.  If I tried to talk about it, she would just close down, like I wasn’t there. She just decided to forget, and she was so happy otherwise that I didn’t fight it. 

I did draw the line at getting rid of the paperwork and the basket and blanket that the baby came to us in, along with a funny wooden box hidden in the basket that never did open.  After the third time I rescued it all from the trash, I took the whole bundle out of the house for safekeeping.

Allison has a right to know who she is.  That note, make her one of you for as long as you can, says that there’s a limit to this, and my gut tells me that there are important things for her to do.  I trust my gut, and while Emily made me promise never to tell Allison any of this while we were alive, my gut also tells me that my promise is going to expire soon.  So I’m writing all this out.

Chuck’s eyes blurred.  His best friend had been through more than he realized.  He also saw yet again that Chuck was a man of honor, and had made sure to abide by his promises while doing what he knew was right. 

I’ve told Allison pretty much the same thing in her letter, Chuck, and I’ve tried to keep a connection to Seattle ready for her.  The house is a great little place, paid for, and of course, with the other parts of the estate, Allie has whatever she needs to learn who she is besides being the light of my and Emily’s life for so long.  And with that codicil, nobody’s going to pressure her out of it.

She is loved, and with your help, cared for, and hopefully about to embark on a real journey.  Keep an eye out for her, will you?  You promised to take care of things if I went before you.  I’m taking you up on your promise.  Hank

Chuck let the pages slip from his fingers on to the desk, looking across at Allison.  He couldn’t help but see her a little differently, but somehow, she looked even more beautiful.  So much had gone into her being here at this time.  She was on the last page of her letter.  At last she set it down, and looked across the desk at him, wide-eyed.

It’s a real example of ‘be careful what you wish for’, Uncle Chuck.  I had this weird feeling of unfinished business, but I don’t think in a million years I would have guessed this.  A real Alice in Wonderland moment.  She shook her head, staring out the window again.  He waited, short of helpful words of his own to add, still trying to understand what he had just learned. 

Finally she turned back to him, looking even more tired than before, but with clear eyes. She was resilient, that’s for sure.  Okay, what’s next?

He looked down at the third envelope on his desk, smaller than the other two, with something other than paper in it.  He slid it across to her with a crooked smile of his own.  Do you dare? 

She smiled back and took it.  Why not.  It can’t really get weirder.  She opened the envelope and in it was a key and a business card with the name and address of a bank on it.  She passed the card back to him.  I don’t remember seeing this bank on any of the records.  Do you?

He looked at it.  First Atlanta Securities.  There were no Stevensen accounts there that he knew of.  Nope.  Yet another mystery.  He passed it back to her and she put both the card and the key in her jacket pocket.

He sighed.  Legally, this was fairly straightforward.  Secret adoptions and hidden accounts were actually pretty common.  Personally, though, he was confused as all hell, wondering how much he really knew about his best friend.  But this delightful young woman he’d known most of her life needed more from him. 

He sat forward in his chair facing her, propping his elbows on the desk. You’ve got some thinking to do, letting all of this sink in.  From what you said about the six-month rule, it sounds like you were doing some of that already.

She relaxed a bit, sitting back against the leather of the chair, and nodded slowly.  Ethan has been pushing to get married for a while now, and since Mother and Dad-  she caught herself and swallowed hard.  For the past month, he’s been pushing harder.  Chuck’s jaw tightened.

She saw his expression and smiled sadly.  He is human, after all.  I didn’t really have a reason before for why I resisted, and last week I actually said yes.  I mean, I love him, he’s a wonderful guy, and a girl would have to try hard to find a better husband.  Still—

That wistful small smile broke his heart as she looked down at her hand and started twisting the ring on her finger again before letting both hands go limp in her lap.  I don’t think I’ve been doing my best decision-making, you know? 

She glanced at the letter on the desk in front of her.  Now I can see that there are a lot of things I need to figure out before I can say yes to anyone, the first being just who the heck I am.  Much as she tried to hide it, he could see that she was seriously overwhelmed.  He wished he could make it go away for her.

Well, sweetie, he said softly, your dad was a pretty smart guy, and no matter where you came from, he was your dad and he loved you very much, and so did your mom.  She nodded.  Hank set it up so that you can take all the time you need to do what you need to do.  I’ll follow up on this house in Seattle and see what arrangements he’s made and get you keys and such.  He stood up and walked around the desk to kneel by her and clasp her hands. 

Honey, the one thing you have to remember right now is that there is no pressure to do anything.  You can work through this at your own pace, and everything else is being taken care of.  Okay?  He peered up into her pale face.  It’s all cookies and milk, sweetheart.

She smiled. Cookies and milk, safe as houses, a beautiful day in the neighborhood.  If only everything was as simple as it had seemed when she and Sarah were little.  For this moment, though, he would fight dragons to make it true.  For her, and for Hank.

Two

ALLISON SAT ON THE cement bench outside Uncle Chuck’s office building, taking the Atlanta August heat and sunshine into her bones.  She’d gotten so cold.  Even in a suit, she could barely feel the humidity.  Her world had gotten very strange, and no matter who she was, she didn’t like chaos one bit. 

And sitting here, trying to put things in place, she also felt like something was horribly missing.  It was as if she was going into a client meeting but she didn’t have the files or getting on a plane for a business trip but didn’t have her computer.  She was so unprepared for being herself right now.

Hey!  You sleepin’ or what?  Sarah blocked the sunshine.  Allison opened her eyes.  Here was the one person who could get her from this minute to the next.  Her rock. Sarah stood in front of her, every inch the woman in charge, today’s suit an emerald green with wide legged slacks over heels, her blond curls pulled back into a braided twist.  That their black leather briefcases matched was no accident, they’d bought them for each other at the same time, giggling at turning indulgence into gift-giving.  Such simple decisions.  Allison missed that time, any time before a month ago.  She sighed.

No, not sleeping, just trying to warm up.  Not so much fun this morning, Sarah, not so much fun.

Sarah sat on the bench beside Allison.  That bad, huh?  Any big surprises?  I mean, my dad’s been managing your parents’ legal stuff for so long, I figured it would go pretty smoothly.

Allison laughed harshly.  Smoothly? I guess you could call the basics smooth, pretty much as expected.  Dad sure is—  she caught herself, her throat tightening.  "—dad was a darned fine chipmunk, stashing those nuts away for a rainy day.  Lots of nuts."

Well, that’s a good thing, in the scheme of things.  But there’s more, isn’t there?  Seriously Allie, what is it?

Allison looked into her friend’s earnest, bright blue eyes shining with concern, ready to fight the good fight.  That was Sarah, had always been Sarah, ever since they were tiny.  As much a sister as a girl could ask.  Allison started to laugh.  I should have asked Uncle Chuck if you were adopted too!

What?  Adopted?  What the heck are you talking about?  Sarah’s shock reminded Allison of what she should be feeling, but it just wasn’t there.  She had surprise fatigue.

Sarah, I’ll tell you all about it on the way, if you’ll run an errand with me.

Like you could get rid of me with a teaser like that!  Anything you need, sweetie, even if you weren’t shaking my belief in the sun coming up in the east and going down in the west.  Where are we going?

Allison reached into her pocket where she’d stashed the business card and key that had been in that last little envelope.  First Atlanta Securities.

Okay...I don’t know that one, and I know a lot of them.  Are they close by?  Will we still have time for lunch after?  I have a two-o’clock.  Oh hell, I’ll just reschedule it.  She reached for her purse to dig out her phone.

Sarah had just gotten promoted at her investment management company, and her appointments were with some of Atlanta’s biggest and best. If Sarah had an appointment booked this afternoon, it really shouldn’t be moved.  Allison was so grateful for how much of her life Sarah had put on hold this past month to take care of her and to be there for her.  Uncle Chuck had been wonderful to take care of the details, but without Sarah, well, it was Sarah who made sure she ate, slept, letting her cry.  Not Ethan, Sarah. 

Just being around her restored Allison’s equilibrium, her sense of her own capable self.  No matter who her actual parents were, Sarah was her best friend.  The bleakness of the morning falling off her shoulders like a heavy coat, she jumped up and pulled Sarah into a hug. 

"No, don’t cancel, you know you shouldn’t.  We will have time for lunch, if I have to just stick whatever we find in my bag to look at later.  I’m hungry too! She released her surprised friend and grabbed her briefcase. You are the best, you know that?  Just the best." Sarah did the same, shaking her head a little, following Allison from the office building courtyard onto the sidewalk.

It turned out that the First Atlanta Securities was just around the corner, a small unassuming storefront that didn’t feel the need to plaster its advertising all over the place.  That meant either it was struggling or very exclusive.  From the minute Allison and Sarah stepped inside, they knew it was definitely not the former.  Gray marble, deep mahogany, lush carpets, this was a home for old money.  A professionally dapper middle-aged man stepped out from behind the reception desk.

Good afternoon, ladies.  I am Mr. Bennet.  How may we help you today?  His tone was a mix of courtesy and reserve, as if their welcome would depend upon their business.

Allison Stevensen.  I was given the name of your bank and this key from my father’s estate upon his recent death. Allison handed over the card, her ID, the key, and the letter that Uncle Chuck had prepared with details of the estate transfer. I would like to access the contents of the box, please. She could frost with the best of them, after years of practice in boardrooms around the country. 

Mr. Bennet seemed to find this answer acceptable.  He guided Sarah and Allison to an even more sumptuously appointed private room away from the lobby, and took the letter and key to look up the number of the safety deposit box.  Seconds after they settled into the comfortable leather club chairs, an assistant came in with a coffee service tray, pouring out for them when Mr. Bennet came back. 

If you will come with me, Ms. Stevensen, I will take you to the boxes.  Your friend can wait here and we can bring the container back.  There really were no questions in there, and with shared raised eyebrows, both Sarah and Allison followed instructions.  Almost amused with the ceremony, Allison accompanied Mr. Bennet through a huge security door to the safety deposit box area, and up to a wall of mid-sized boxes halfway along the wall.  From his own pocket, he withdrew a key ring that he expertly flipped to hold his hand poised at one of the two locks at a box that was at their eye level.  He looked expectantly at Allison.

Allison took her own key from her own pocket and put it in the lock.  Mr. Bennet did the same and they turned at the same time.  Allison stifled a hysterical giggle, imagining a big red button somewhere that needed pressing.  Mr. Bennet sternly helped Allison pull out the lidded steel container and set it on a cart to wheel back to the room where Sarah waited.  He set the container on the table, and withdrew with the cart.

Allison stared down at the imposing steel gray rectangle, wondering what would happen if she just left, right now, without ever having opened it.  She could pretend that she was still Allison Stevensen, daughter of Henry and Emily, fiancée to Ethan, and the mysteries would stay buried. 

But that was not going to happen.  Hank Stevensen had made room for her to do this.  Actually, he had cleared room for it.  He taught her to value truth, to never shrink from a challenge, and to face the world head on.  Allison felt herself stand up straight and take a deep breath, reaching for the lid. 

From her chair, sipping her coffee, Sarah said softly, You go, girl.

Allison opened the lid, and inside found the basket, the blanket, and the envelopes her dad had mentioned in his letter.  She also lifted out the small wooden box he had told her about, and she held it up to the light from the elegant lamp that stood on the table.  The box was small, maybe six inches square, and when she shook it gently, she could tell something was inside, but there was no obvious hinges or clasps. She ran her fingers over its smooth surfaces, feeling how smooth and polished the richly red wood was.  Her fingers felt the wood warm, and her chest clenched a little, a recognition that this box meant something really big.

All of a sudden, all Allison wanted more than anything in the entire world was to be out of this room out of this building, outside in the sunshine, and away from mysteries. 

She just wanted things to be normal, going to lunch with Sarah before a meeting, living a life that was light and predictable.  The walls were pressing in, the rich décor around her now stifling.  She swayed a little and caught herself by holding on to the table.

Hey, sweetie, you okay?  Sarah was at her side in a second, as always sensing Allison’s distress.  Allison struggled to speak. 

Sarah put her arm around Allison’s shoulders.  You’re pushing yourself, and you’re hungry.  Let’s just take this stuff with us and go have lunch.  You need to eat.  She looked at her watch.  I can move that meeting, maybe to tomorrow, and I’ll take you home after lunch and we can look through this stuff together.

Allison collected herself and shook her head.  "Sarah, I’m fine, really.  You’re right, though.  I need to get out of here, and I need to eat.  It’s enough for right now.  Let’s