I rise to my feet and take Anne and Dan downstairs to the living room. I point to the couch, gesturing for them to take a seat. I remain standing. “I found a box in the secret room. And these journals.” I pick up the first journal. “Inside them, Iris talks about a time in her life that changed everything for her. I started reading them while you were away, not realizing at first they were about Iris, and got sucked into the story. Your—” I bite back the word I was going to say.
Anne needs to read the journals to learn the truth. I won’t ruin the surprise.
“Iris was an incredible woman,” I tell Anne. “Incredible in ways you didn’t realize. The room behind the bookshelf wasn’t the only secret she’d kept all those years. She once led a life that you, and I’m guessing your mother, didn’t know about.” I hand her the journal. “The journals are difficult to read because of her arthritic hand and because the ink has faded with age.”
I pick up the thick binder from the coffee table. “I took the liberty of typing them out so the content would be easier to read. That’s why I didn’t tell you about them once you returned from Europe. I was still typing them out and hadn’t gotten to the end of her story.” My face heats at how I hadn’t been totally honest with Anne back then.
I open the flap on the box. “The journals aren’t the only things Iris left in the secret room.” I lay out on the table the French Croix de Guerre medal, the unopened letter to Anne’s mother, and the heart pendant—the one Johann had given to Angelique.
A confused frown scrunches on Dan’s brow. “Is that…?” His gaze jumps up from the medal.
“It’s the French Croix de Guerre from the Second World War. Well, after it, actually. The medal was Iris’s. The journals explain why she had it. The same with the heart pendant. It’s all in there.” I flash Anne a smile that I hope comes off as the apology I mean for it to be.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner and I kept reading them without your permission. I couldn’t stop at that point. I had to know what happened.” I pick up the blue binder from the coffee table. It’s narrower than the other one but still a considerable thickness.
I hand it to Anne. “And this…I wrote a historical novel based on Iris’s journals. To bring to life the great acts of heroism she performed during the war. It’s yours. You can decide what you want done with it. She was your relative. It’s your choice if you want her story made public.”
I really hope Anne does. More people should learn what Iris did to earn the medal. How she was part of the plot to bring down the Nazis and end the war.
And Anne deserves to know more about the Austrian family she’s never heard of.
The family I never even had a chance to tell Troy about. And now, I likely never will.
58
TROY
September, Present Day
Maple Ridge
“I still can’t believeyou convinced the band to perform after all,” Simone says as she and I watch Pushing Limits onstage playing one of their big hits.
We’re standing on the grass with our friends and my brothers, enjoying the warm day and the entertainment. The five men onstage are currently performing to a sold-out audience, their fans jumping and dancing and screaming to the rock song. The loud rhythmic beat pulsates through my body.
It’s been three weeks since I drove to LA, but it still hasn’t sunk in that I convinced Mason Dell to play with the band for the sake of the festival.
If I didn’t know better, I would never have guessed they haven’t played together as a band in more than five years. They’ve played a mix of their older hits from when Mason was part of the band and their newer songs.
For the past two weeks, Mason and his family stayed in LA, partly so the band could rehearse together. And for that, I’m truly thankful. Today will go a long way in assisting individuals with PTSD and their families. The festival has also helped to build more awareness and understanding about the mental illness.
“I can’t believe you managed to pull off the festival,” Lucas says, hugging Simone from behind. “I bet you never expected it to be this successful.”
“You’re right. I didn’t. But thank Christ it’s almost over. And then I can return to having a normal, relatively stress-free life.” Stress free and lonely.
Fuck, I miss Jess. If it weren’t for her, Pushing Limits wouldn’t be here. She was the one who told me Mason had originally been the band’s drummer. I’d forgotten that.
The festival might be a huge success, but it doesn’t feel that way without Jess being part of the day. She didn’t want to risk showing up and bringing the wrong kind of media attention to the event. As it is, I’ve been fielding several interviews today and over the last few days about the festival and where the proceeds will be going.
By the time I’m finished here, I’m going to sleep for the next ten years. Or longer.
Nova is dancing to the music. I smile at the antics of the little girl…and at the sight of Lance’s arms secure around my best friend’s waist. Olivia is leaning back into him, looking happy and content. This relationship between them is new—only two weeks old—but I can tell it’s going to last.
But as thrilled as I am to see them together, it does nothing for the ache in my chest that only Jess can fill. I won’t go there again, though. I can’t keep surviving the pull and push between us. Can’t keep surviving the uncertainty and distrust that grows every time we’re together and she decides to sever our connection.
* * *
“Thank you for joining us!”Nolan tells the cheering audience through the microphone.
