The Finding Tree

Chapter 32 - The Last Entry

Could she ever trust him again?

Could she even love anyone again in any fashion? Adam was a pretty big example of "nope" in that regard. It felt like she'd forgotten how to be in love. None of it seemed easy anymore. Janey frowned, sat her mug down and wrapped up the burrito for lunch later.

The emotion felt dried up, and unused. Like brown leaves that were ready to blow away in the gusts of autumn.

She analyzed her headache to see if it was worth calling off work today, but she couldn't fake it well enough, so she rallied her reserves, showered and went into to the office with a digital recorder full of notes and a heart full of questions.

As the work day ended, the article about MAC had morphed into a double page lead in the Arts section. Janey's personal insights into his paintings and inspiration were bound to electrify the city's art scene.

Denise hummed approvingly after reading it, then looked at Janey over her red plastic readers. The print out, rumpled in her right hand flopped on the armrest of her ancient office chair.

"You know this guy from somewhere else, girly?"

Janey sighed and leaned against Denise's cubicle. "Uhh, yes... He was my high school boyfriend. I honestly didn't know it was him, until we met again at the Bonfoey."

"No Shit? So the mysterious art dude, was your teenage loverboy?"

Janey snorted and chuckled. "I guess so."

"So you gonna jump on that wagon again? We could probably make room for a series on this guy if you wanna go for it." Denise chuckled mischievously and waggled an eyebrow at Janey.

Janey looked up at Denise, and shrugged. "I have no clue, what do you think I should do?"

Denise realized that she was absolutely serious and her demeanor changed. "Well hell, bitch...you don't have to figure it all out today. I just want to know if you think there's another story in here, or if you're cutting me out of the picture so to speak."

Janey smiled at Denise, "Trust me when I figure it out, you'll be the first to know."

And yet she was still unable to call Peter with an answer. She headed home and wished for someone to talk to. Someone with which unburden the history of her emotions.

Her mom was a hard pass. Ginny had her hands full, and didn't need more drama on her plate. Mabel had long been dead. Denise? Janey smiled. Denise would listen thoughtfully and then laugh her ass off. She was almost there already and didn't even know the half of it.

When she parked the old Mazda in her assigned spot behind the building, she slowly walked upstairs and finally realized what she needed.

Mabel's journal. She remembered the last entry and how it had never made sense. Maybe it would be a little more clear now.

April 28th, 1958

My Dear Janey,

I suppose at this late date we can forgo the formalities, don't you think? Anyone that may have thought I was crazy is either dead, or has long ago come to their conclusion on the matter. An entry in my diary won't sway them one way or the other.

I have already given this book to my youngest grandson, Tom. But he has left it unattended so I've been able to access it on occasion and put it back without him knowing.

I know it's been several years since I've written to you. I am concerned for both of my grandsons. Your father and his brother are such insolent young men. Spoiled and entitled to their ease and wealth. Yet both of them adopt a tough guy persona that indicates they both come from the crime ridden streets.

I am not impressed with their attitudes, but yet I also know that all things work together for good, so I will sit back and hope they don't cause more heartache than I already know about.

After France was put back together, you knew that I traveled all across Europe with similar interests in mind. Patrick was an adult by that time. He had come into his own and I signed over the business to his capable hands.

He may have been financially motivated but when I came home after the crash in 1929, I could see the economic hardship coming. I encouraged him to make jobs and work available to those who needed it. We had to support our people as best we could.

Thankfully Patrick agreed with me, because it not only helped our employees, but it also increased our business. If anything my son is very forward thinking. A few years later he was instrumental in helping Roosevelt bring his New Deal to masses, and then again with the next war. By the time my grandchildren were born, I was happy to stay home. My efforts were better spent close to those I loved. It's taken me a lifetime to realize we can't fix everything, but success comes from never giving up.

However I'm not here to tell you the history of my son, or what happened after I wrote to you last. I'm here to say something important before I go back to my Lake House and Lawrence one last time.

This is something you must hear, because I've seen both outcomes my dear girl and one result is much more appealing than the other. I saw the truth a few days ago.

That poor boy needs love more than any other person I've ever seen, his heart is perpetually breaking over and over again, and you. Only you can put the pieces back together.

Janey, please promise me something. I know it will be difficult for you. But trust me, love. Have faith in our tree, and your heart one more time. Don't give up on him.

If he asks you to go somewhere, pluck up your courage, and do it. Don't ask questions, don't second guess his motives. Just go.

You'll never regret the journey. I promise.

All my love,
Mabel

Janey's hands trembled as she closed the journal, and wrapped the leather lanyard around it. She had never understood the meaning of this entry as clearly as she did at this moment. The answer she had been searching for was laid out in front of her. Mabel's spidery scrawl was shaky with age but the intent was clear.

Over the years, the fine fountain pen entries had changed to a cheap blue ball point. But the emotion scripted in those words was the strongest she had ever read.

She picked up the note, and called Peter's number. Peace in her heart and excitement about what lay ahead made her smile.

"Peter McDonagh speaking." He answered in a clipped businesslike voice. This must be his work phone, she thought.

"Hi Peter, it's me. I'm sorry it took me a while to call you today, I needed to think some things through."

She could feel his demeanor change over the line, even without sound, then a soft sigh escaped him. "Hi love, how are you? Feeling well?"

Her heart beat a little faster at the endearment, maybe it wouldn't be so hard to fall in love again."

"I'll go with you, Peter. Wherever you want to take me, I'll go."