Veiled Innocence (34 page)

I open the envelope and pull the crumpled letter free. A second piece of paper falls out with it—the note Doc said came with the pen. Both letters are in the same cursive writing. That’s how Doc had known for sure whom it had come from.

All of Doc’s questions, all of the clues, are like one giant puzzle.

I run my fingers over Grayson’s words and wonder what it all means. Another thought then comes to me.

“Why didn’t you give it to the police?”

Doc walks over and sits on the bed beside me. He doesn’t look my way as I turn to him.

“We all have choices to make in our life, Addy. Right or wrong.”

Yes, I remember those parts of our sessions.

“Well, I had a choice to make when I found that. Could I use it to help you? Or did I give it to people who would eventually use it in a way that would set you back?”

What Doc is telling me is unbelievable. No one has ever done something so selfless for me.

“You needed the pen and the letter to heal. Just as Cupid revived Psyche with a kiss,
he
revived you with words. Every single word he wrote in that letter helped
me
to help
you
. He reached you, even though he wasn’t here.”

I tremble as I touch the paper in my lap, remembering how broken I’d felt when I first read those words, but now...now it felt like—

“He saved you after all,” Doc spoke softly, finishing my thought.

I put my head on Doc’s shoulder and whisper the only words I can manage. “Thank you.”

* * *

I sit in the front of Doc’s black SUV and buckle my seat belt as we pull away from Pine Groves. I feel a sense of freedom washing over me as the air rushes in through the windows. 

Finally, I’m free.

Doc is driving me to the camera store and then we will head to my house. On his back seat is the one bag I’d had dropped off for the past thirty days, and in my hand I hold the letters he’d given me in my room. The only mystery left is inside the pen in my pocket.

He pulls the car up to the front of the store, and I jump out. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”

“Take your time. I have my book.”

He nods at me, trusting me, and though I hate deceiving him, I need to know what’s on that negative. I pull open the door and make my way to the front desk. A woman with jet-black hair and eyeliner to match approaches me and smiles.

“Hi. How can I help you?”

I take the pen from my pocket and unscrew it. Looking over my shoulder, I check to see that no one’s around before tipping it upside down on the counter.

“Oh cool!” she says as the negative falls out.

“Right?”

“Yeah, very double agent.” She laughs, and I see the flash of a tongue ring.

“Can you develop it?” I ask.

I want to know what’s on the negative, but I’m also terrified to find out.

“I can. It’ll take a few minutes.”

“That’s fine. Oh, and can I also get a copy of this?”

I place the old photo I’ve had on my wall down on the counter.

She picks up both objects and tells me yes and then walks out to a back room.

I go and sit on one of the chairs against the wall and start to bite my nail.

Nervous habit?

Oh God.
I can hear him in my head, see him in my mind, and with the negative and his letter in my possession, I have more hope than I’ve ever had before. I pull out the small note he’d sent to Doc with the pen.

It wasn’t good, and it wasn’t evil—it was just love. She deserves love. Make her understand. Take care of her, Doc.

Where was he when he wrote this? I need to know.

Grayson’s right.

What we had was as simple and as complicated as love could be. We were two people who were perfectly suited and met at exactly the wrong time.

“Hey there.”

I look over to where the girl has come back out behind the counter. Jumping to my feet, I rush over and notice she is frowning at me.

“Here’s your copy,” she tells me and hands me the reproduced photograph of Cupid and Psyche. She then pushes the second photo over to me—the photo from the negative.

“This is what appeared from the negative. It’s a photo of the same sculpture you have there, but whoever took it didn’t get out of the light. There’s a shadow on the side and there are also some numbers scratched into the film. If you ask me, this other copy is so much better. The quality and so on.”

I pick up the photo and hold it up.

There, right in front of me, is Grayson.

Oh, he’d been clever. All you could see was his shadow on the wall behind the sculpture, but I knew it was him. He was okay. Then I saw the numbers down in the corner, but they were tiny.

“Can I have this one blown up?”

The girl shrugs.

“Sure.”

When she comes back with the enlarged copy, I grab it with eager hands. I study the numbers this time; there are six of them. I read them over and over.
What are they?

“Okay, that’s nineteen dollars and sixty-two cents.”

I give her the only credit card I own and then begin to fold the photo so I can push it into my pocket. The look of horror on her face almost makes me laugh. I didn’t want to frame this picture, I wanted to work it out.

This is yet another clue in this puzzle.

I run back out to the car and hop inside.

“Get it?”

I nod and pull out the copy to show him. All the while the six numbers are running through my head.

Doc pulls out of the lot and begins the drive to my house. When we pull up, I notice my mom’s car is gone.

Nice, she isn’t even here to welcome me home.

I unbuckle my seat belt and reach back to grab my bag. I push open the door and look back at Doc, realizing that he is the only person that knows the answer to the one question that remains.

“Doc?”

“Yes, Addy?”

“Where did the pen and note come from?”

He gives me a slight smile and finally tells me.

“France. The return address was a nonexistent one in France. I checked it out.”

France?

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Grayson loves Europe. It makes sense that he would go back. Why did I think that photo had been taken anywhere else?

But where in France? Where is that sculpture on display?

Now I have a new direction to look in.

“So, will I see you on Wednesday for our session?” Doc asks.

I purposely evade the question and give him a bright smile. “Thanks, Doc. For everything.”

He knows me though, and even as his eyes narrow, I see the side of his mouth twitch.

“Of course, Addy. Keep my number, you hear me?”

I feel an ache in my heart as I think about what I want. If I do this, I don’t know when I’ll see Doc again.

Unable to find the words to tell this man what he means to me, I lean across the car and kiss his cheek. “Stay happy.”

He brushes a hand over my hair and replies, “You too.”

* * *

Once I’m back inside my home, I sprint up to my room and boot up my laptop. As I wait, I pull out the photo and run my fingers over the shadow—Grayson.

His arms are bent and it’s clear he’s holding the camera. I wish I could see him. But at least I have this, which is more than I had yesterday, or the day before that. I also have these numbers...

My computer beeps, indicating it’s ready, and when I look up, I see it. At the top of the monitor is the date—made up of six numbers.

Snatching up the photo, I read the digits again and feel my pulse speed up.

It’s a date! That’s what’s on the photo he’s given me...a
future
date.

I open the Internet and the first thing I type in is,
Psyche Revived by Cupid’s Kiss
. I hit enter and sit back, waiting.

I can barely breathe as I wait for the page to load the results, and then…there it is. The first entry is exactly what I’ve been hoping for.

A closer look at
Psyche Revived by Cupid’s Kiss
at the
Musée du Louvre.

The Louvre—Paris, France.

I look back at the photo beside my keyboard, and instantly I know.
This
is exactly what Grayson is telling me.

* * *

I can’t believe I’m standing here.

People brush by me from every direction, and I grab the handle of my suitcase with shaky hands. My eyes seek out the information I’m looking for and then it flashes on the screen.

United Airlines, Denver to Paris – 7:10 a.m. Gate B52.

I roll my luggage to the check-in line. As I wait, I close my eyes and think about the photo and letters in my carry-on.

Am I doing the right thing?
I’m not sure, but as I get closer to the desk, all I can think about is the date on the bottom of the photo. It’s for two days from now.

“Miss?”

The brunette behind the counter is calling my name, and I blush as I step forward.

“Yes? I’m sorry,” I apologize, feeling slightly scattered.

“No problem. How can I help you?”

I look at the board again and can’t help the smile I give.

“I’d like a one-way ticket on the seven ten flight to Paris, please.”

“Sure thing. Can I please see your passport?”

I nod and take out the passport my mother made me get last year when she’d decided we should have a
family
vacation. I’ve still never used it.

The lady behind the desk swipes it, and as she starts to type in my information, she asks, “A one-way ticket, huh? Leaving it up to fate? I like that.”

I swallow, feeling nervous. “Yeah, something like that.”

She chuckles as she passes me back my documents.

“You’ll love it. It’s such a beautiful city and so romantic. Maybe you’ll have an epic love affair!”

I feel my heart skip at her words and wonder if I’ll get my happy ending.

After everything I’ve been through, it feels as if my dreams are right there…almost within my reach.

“Okay, the ticket is $789.00. How would you like to pay for that?”

Oh, I know exactly how I’d like to pay for that.

I open my wallet and pull out the cash my mother kept hidden in her drawer. Now she’ll really have something to miss, because I know for a fact she sure as hell won’t miss me.

“Cash, please.”

I give her the money, and several moments later, she hands me the ticket.

“Have a fantastic trip. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“Thanks,” I say, and all I can think as I make my way to my gate is—
so do I.

Epilogue

The Louvre—Paris, France…

Thirty-seven days.

That’s how long it’s been since I’ve seen her.

I wait at the back of the loud exhibit hall and watch as people shuffle through to look at the sculpture in the center. All I can hear is the—
tick, tick, tock—
of the watch fastened around my wrist.

I glance down at it and see that it’s been nearly three hours.

Three hours since the front doors have opened, and three hours that I’ve been waiting.

I’ll wait all day and all night, if that’s what it takes.

Raising a hand, I push my fingers through my hair which is finally starting to grow out
,
and that’s when I see her.

She steps into the room I’m standing in, and all of the noise surrounding me disappears.

All I can see—is
her
.

She looks as perfect as the first day I ever saw her.

Her hair is curled in soft waves flowing down over her black coat, and she’s clutching what looks like a photograph—
my
photograph.

My instinct is to call out to her, but I wait.

I wait and watch as she looks around, her eyes moving over the people near her and when she stops, I know she’s seen it. Psyche and Cupid in their lover’s embrace.

She seems drawn to the marble couple in the center of the room, and I see her raise a hand to her chest and place it over her heart as she approaches.

I can hardly believe my own eyes—she’s here.

I step out from behind the sculpture and all I can manage is her name. “Addison.”

Her stunning blue eyes find me, and as she looks my way, all I can think is...

There she is, staring at me—my salvation, and my new beginning.

THE END

Special Acknowledgments

To Alyssa, Kimberly & Brittany—thank you for sharing this story with me and reading, as always. Every little thing helps and usually makes me realize I still have some Aussie left in me—yes, Brits, I use to run around an oval, but I changed it to a track just for you.

Thank you to Jess for stepping up at the last minute and for your beautiful creations.

Thank you to Donna and Jen for working around my crazy schedule and beta reading over several days. It was much appreciated.

I would also like to thank Kristin, whose professional insight only added to what it was I was trying to say.

Also a huge thank you to Brenda Wright who formatted for me at the very last minute. I appreciate you making this pretty for the public!

Xx Ella

Trademark Acknowledgments