Although my life has been marked by loneliness and heartbreak, I’ve rather enjoyed my life. I’ve lived in this grand old house for parts of nine decades. And I’ve loved more passionately and stronger than most. I’ve been blessed to know and love three remarkable men in my lifetime: my father, Bobby, and now Jon Rafter.
As I sit in my wheelchair and jot down these words, I watch Jon with keen interest as he paints a mural in the foyer. His skill as an artist is mindboggling. And watching the mural come together stroke by meticulous stroke is a treat. I can almost hear David playing his harp so beautifully for King Saul.
God has truly blessed Jon with an amazing talent. I know someday he will gain fame for his work. And I know he will handle the fame well. Jon is a high-character man. Although he has never told me what brought him here to Louisiana, I know he has experienced pain. I can sense it. And somehow through this most unlikely of relationships, we are both helping each other sort through our heartbreak.
I thank God for bringing Jon here almost every day. He is kind and compassionate and has become like a son to me. He does so much for me, drives me around town and takes me to all my doctor appointments. Sometimes I have to convince myself that he is only a mortal man and not an angelic being.
I can never repay Jon for everything he has done for me. So I have decided to bequeath him this house. I keep having dreams of children running around in this house, playing and laughing. And the children are Jon’s. So how could I not give him this house?
I have already proceeded with the legalities. An estate attorney came over and drew up the papers. And I signed them. My living will is legal and binding. After my last appointment where my doctor said my Alzheimer’s is progressing rapidly, I decided to not waste any time getting my affairs in order.
Soon the Lord will take me home. And Bobby will be waiting for me. Our dream of marriage never happened on earth, and it won’t happen in heaven either. But I know Bobby is ready to dance with me all the same.
Just before Jon arrived here, I hired a contractor to pour a concrete wall in the pantry. I climbed the servant staircase countless times over the years and always visited the secret room, reliving my last night with Bobby. Climbing the narrow and dark staircase eventually became too difficult for me as I aged. So I removed the temptation.
In all my visits to the secret room, I never did find the treasure box. Daddy hid it well. He must not have wanted me to find it. But who knows, maybe Jon will find it. I doubt it though. Sometimes treasure isn’t meant to be found. And sometimes what we think is treasure…isn’t really treasure at all.
****
Sitting backwards in the johnboat’s bow, Annie closed shut Rose Whitcomb’s journal. She looked at Jon, manning the tiller in the stern as they tooled slowly through the swamp. Her opinion of her husband—already high—just shot up after reading the last entry. “Rose sure thought highly of you, Jon.”
Rafter shrugged. “I needed Rose as much as she needed me. I was homeless and destitute when I first met her. Not only did I need a place to live, I needed a purpose. Rose gave me one.”
Annie swallowed over a lump. “Rose thought of you as a son.”
“And I thought of her like a grandma. And sometimes I even called her Grandma Rose.”
“Did she like it when you called her that?”
“At first I thought she did. But then I soon figured out she didn’t, so I stopped.”
“I’m curious about all the murals. Did you just start painting them without permission?”
Rafter shook his head. “Rose saw what I had painted onto canvases and asked me to paint the same types of scenes onto the walls. So I did.”
Annie glanced around at their surroundings. They were deep in the Atchafalaya Basin. Giant cypress trees soared up from the muddy water all around them, and the only sound she could hear besides their small outboard motor was all the frogs croaking. There must be tens of thousands here, she thought.
Even though she’d grown up in Louisiana and lived her whole life here—except for when she trained to become an FBI agent at Quantico—the swamps spooked her. Maybe it was all the ghostly Spanish moss hanging from the live oaks and cypress trees and flapping in the breeze like torn and dirty wedding veils, or perhaps it was the murky water stretching for as far as she could see that gave her the creeps. But most likely she thought it was the alligators hiding underwater. She hated the giant reptiles.
Jon cut the power to the Mercury outboard motor and they floated gently in the water. Annie took in their surroundings. “Is this the spot?”
Rafter nodded. “Do you recognize it?”
Annie studied the trees and water for a minute. Morning sunbeams cut through the trees and glistened off the water. Again she found the silence unnerving. The Basin seemed strangely void of animal life. But then just as she thought this a beaver slapped its tail against the water. She shook her head. “It doesn’t look familiar, but it sure feels like I’ve been here before.”
“The Boudreaux fishing shack used to be right where we’re floating,” Rafter said. He pointed toward a cypress tree standing about twenty yards away. “There is a piece of the dock jammed up against that tree.”
Annie shuddered. Dark memories flooded back into her brain.
“I’m sorry if bringing you here is too much.”
“No, I’m okay, Jon. This is the perfect spot for what we’re doing.”
“We won’t be here long,” Rafter said, and leaned over. He struggled to heft the treasure box from the bottom of the boat up into his lap. He opened the lid and looked at the sparkling gold and silver coins.
“I wonder how much the coins are worth,” Annie said.
“I haven’t the slightest idea. And I really don’t want to know. All I know is…it must be a king’s ransom.”
“Jon, you better do what we came here for before we change our minds.”
Rafter nodded. He scooted the open box across his lap and tilted it. The gold doubloons and pieces of eight swirled out the box and splashed into the muddy water for nearly a half minute. Rafter finally turned the box upside down and shook it, allowing the last coin to slide out into the water.
He placed the empty box back into the boat. “The box will make a nice souvenir. I’d like to keep it and put art supplies in it.”
“Sure, you should do that.”
Rafter looked at her. “Well, that’s finished.”
“You don’t seem very upset.”
Rafter smiled mischievously. He reached down beside his left leg and lifted up a small leather pouch. He shook the pouch. A clinking noise came from inside the pouch.
“Jon, what is that?”
“It’s seed money.”
“Huh? Seed money for what?”
“Grace’s college fund.”
“Grace is barely a week old, and you’re already worried about paying for college?”
“Just think how much it will cost. We have to start saving now. These coins will give us a head start,” Rafter explained.
Annie felt her lips purse together. “Rose had it right when she said, ‘Some treasure isn’t meant to be found. And some treasure isn’t really treasure at all.’”
Rafter sighed. “And don’t forget Ned thinks the treasure is cursed.”
“I haven’t forgotten. So why don’t you dump the rest over the side. We’ll figure something out. Grace will make it to college.”