Written on Her Heart (4 page)

Andi pulled up to the farmhouse that had been in her family for generations. It still featured the original wood siding and scrollwork and boasted several small outbuildings, including a mill.

Andi smiled as she got out of her car and made her way up the sprawling porch. Certain things had been modernized and replaced—windows, the roof, and the plumbing—but overall, the home had maintained its charm. So many happy memories were associated with the place: hanging stockings on the living room mantel, decorating Christmas trees in front of the huge bay window, sliding down the railing of the staircase, sneaking out of her room and fleeing to the cove with Rachel and Carma…

 She opened the screen door and stepped inside. Her mother stood at the stove, stirring something in a huge pot. The air held the scent of something sweet.

“How’d it go?” She smiled.

Andi gave her a kiss on the cheek, then crossed the room and plunked herself down at the table. On the drive home, the excitement of hanging out with her friends had waned, only to be replaced with dread.

“You’ll never believe this. I have the chance of a lifetime with this job, right? I’m talking
huge
. And guess what?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “I have to compete for it against my best friends.”

Her mother continued to stir whatever was in the pot. “Wow. That is a coincidence, but it’s not much of a surprise. We live in a small town. Did you really think people weren’t going to jump at the opportunity? If you ask me, though, it’s pretty impressive that the three of you are even in the running.”

“I have to get this job. Rachel worries me, though. She’s sneaky.”

Her mother stopped stirring a moment and turned to Andi, eyeing her with a raised brow. Andi knew her mother as well as she knew herself, and she waited for her to vocalize her thoughts.

“Just don’t let this competition come between you. Friends last forever, jobs don’t.”

“Mom, we’re talking about a job working for
Ford Delaney.
This isn’t just any old office job.”

“I know. This is an amazing opportunity. And I’m sure you’ll get it. After all, you’re the most qualified with your background. And I want it more than anything for you.” She reached out and squeezed Andi’s hand. “Just don’t forget what’s important.” She looked at her daughter meaningfully.

Andi rolled her eyes. She hated when her mother gave her that look. Now was not the time for a lecture on life. She had an audition, plans to make. This was her last chance to prove herself. And wasn’t her mother supposed to be on her side?

Shoving her mother’s concerns aside, Andi bit her lip, her mind bouncing from one thought to the next. “I’m supposed to take him to the most interesting place in town, while keeping his identity intact. I have no idea where to take him. None.” She placed her fingers to her temples
. Think, think, think…
“I can come up with something better than them. I have to. Rachel will probably show him around her house or city hall or something, since her dad’s the mayor, and maybe Carma, the firehouse? But I don’t have a mayor for a father or a fire chief.” She tapped her finger on the table as she continued to think out loud. “Ford and I do have something in common, though. I’m a writer. Or I want to be … I need to use that to my advantage. What interests us?” She trailed off, her mind swirling. People. Stories. Lives. History.

Her mother sighed and tossed the towel on the table in front of her. “Lord knows there’s not much in this town other than the water. Your father’s ancestors founded it over a century ago, and nothing much has changed since—”

Andi’s eyes widened. She slapped a hand on the table, and her mother jumped. “That’s it!”  Her stomach fluttered at the idea forming in her head.

“The mill. I’ll bring him right here to the mill. It’s perfect.” She hopped up from her seat and ran up the stairs to her room. She had a while until she had to pick him up, but she wanted to prepare.

Ten outfits and several hours later, Andi sat in the tight confines of her old Honda, dressed in skinny jeans, slouchy boots and a blue tunic that had been her mother’s from the seventies. She peered at Ford out of the corner of her eye in the darkness. Every street lamp they passed illuminated his face, an unreadable mask. Most of the ten minute drive from Ford’s office to the mill had been spent in silence, with “This better be good, Miss Callaway,”
being the only thing he had said to her the entire way. He stared at the town passing outside his window, and Andi wondered what he was thinking.

“Could you please stop that,” he said, his voice even.

Andi started at the sound. She glanced down to find her fingers drumming over the steering wheel. Forcing her hands to stay still, she gripped the wheel until her knuckles turned white. “Sorry,” she whispered.

She slowed at the entrance to her family’s property and turned onto the long driveway as the mill came into view. Once she parked, she sat for a moment before turning to Ford, whose eyes were already on her. Her palms grew damp at his gaze and her thoughts scattered.
This is it.

“We’re here,” she said.

“I don’t know whether to be intrigued or incredibly frightened. Did you bring me to this secluded spot in the middle of the night to shoot me and dispose of my body where no one will ever find it? You do, after all, have the mind of a writer, and this would be quite the place.”

Heat rose to her cheeks. She glanced at the massive barn, which loomed dark and eerie in the night sky with its peeling paint and loose boards. She could see his point. “First of all, we’re still in town. You’d be found immediately. And this is a working—”

Ford laughed.

Andi straightened, pushing her shoulders back. “What?”

“I’m just kidding. Did you really think I thought you brought me out here to kill me? You’re very tense.”

Andi exhaled, blowing a fringe of bangs out of her face. She didn’t know whether to be annoyed or relieved. “After my disastrous interview today, I wonder why I’d be a little nervous.”

“Who said it was disastrous? You’re here, aren’t you?”

Andi opened her mouth to speak but said nothing. He had a point. But how could he have seen it as anything but a disaster?

“You were honest.” His amber eyes searched her face. “It was refreshing.”

Her stomach dipped.
Is it hot in here?
She curled a finger over the collar of her shirt and shook it to cool herself.

“And this—” he waved a hand at the old barn “—is different. I have no idea where we are, but it’s unexpected. I like that. A lot. Predictable is boring. So,” he said, craning his neck out the window to get a better look. “What makes this the most interesting place in town?”

She licked her lips, ready to give him her carefully rehearsed explanation, but when he glanced back at her, her voice refused to work. She couldn’t talk, not with his eyes on her like that. She needed a moment.

Getting out of the car, she walked toward the barn, waiting for him to follow
.
She wasn’t the star-struck type, so what was her problem? She had to forget who he was and imagine him as the average employer and this as any old job. She needed to get her head back in the game.

The giant barn-like structure towered into the inky night sky in front of her, flanked by the arms of two massive willows. Andi moved closer to the plaque on the building’s two sliding doors and ran her fingers over the smooth metal lettering that read, “The Mill, Historic Landmark est. 1850.”

The sound of Ford’s feet on the gravel crunched behind her. Taking a deep breath, she turned to the noise. “This is what’s simply known all through town as the mill.” She pointed to the sign. “It’s a part of my family’s property. My ancestors were the first to inhabit the town, which is why it’s called Callaway Cove. And this—” she spread her arms wide to encompass the view of the mill “—along with the farmhouse my parents still live in were the first buildings erected. Come on.” She nodded to the massive doors and slid them open.

She stepped inside and spun around. Along with the cove, the small arm of water that lined the west edge of their property, the mill was one of her favorite places in town. She considered herself lucky that both belonged to her family. Their heritage and her family’s history in this town were a source of pride for Andi and every other Callaway before her. Standing in the rickety old building, her mood soared and her confidence returned. The job was hers for the taking. She just had to reach out and grab it. She could do this.

Ford stepped after her, taking in his surroundings in silence.

“This was the first working feed mill in the area. But that’s not the cool part. During the 1850s and 60s, while the men of my family and their employees grinded away upstairs, something altogether different went on down below. Something done in secret, only known to my great-great-grandfather and his brothers. Something heroic.” Andi hugged herself to ward off the chill in the air. The old building seemed to harbor a constant dampness. She caught a glimpse of Ford’s eyes on her as she moved about the cavernous room and she grinned. Looks like she had his undivided attention.

Only moonshine streaming through the windows lit the workshop; the giant grain mills and other machinery loomed large and archaic in the darkness. The mill had been equipped with electricity for many years now, but the dark of night suited her story more, so she kept the overhead light off. “The mill was a part of the underground railroad. Several spots in Ashtabula County were, actually.”

Ford’s eyes stayed on her as she picked up a flashlight off a table, moved to the corner of the room and removed a giant panel off the floor, revealing a darkened stairway leading underground. She pointed the flashlight down the steep stairwell, which seemed to lead into nothing but a black hole. “I hope you’re not claustrophobic. Shall we?”

“I’m not. And absolutely.” Ford stepped forward and followed Andi into the small opening, then down the stairs, saying little as he took everything in.

The space was barely a body width wide, with cobwebs coating the old beams like wallpaper. Once they hit the ground, the space opened up like a giant cave. The dripping of water echoed from someplace unseen, accounting for the scent of mildew. Dust tickled her nose and scratched her throat, but Andi continued, spreading her arms to the space around her. “Back in the mid-1800s, the slaves would hide down here during the day, sometimes for days at a time—a week, if necessary—until my great-great-grandfather would get the signal. Then he and his brothers would lead the slaves into the darkness. They’d run through the fields and into the woods that bordered the cove.”

The flashlight barely illuminated their surroundings, but she could see Ford’s eyes through the darkness, still focused on her. “They had no lanterns to light their way. Only the moon and stars guided them. Once the safe boat pulled into the cove, they’d board and ride into Canada, to safety. At the time, most of the locals knew nothing about this—not even the wives of those involved.”

Ford turned and inspected the cavernous basement. “Fascinating.”

“They never got caught, although they had a few close calls. The only major disappointment they ever had was with a slave named Brady. He fled here after he’d been severely beaten. By the time he arrived, though, weeks had already passed. His wounds were extensive, and despite my ancestors’ efforts, infection set in. He died before his safe boat arrived. It’s said he can still be seen down here at night sometimes. Waiting for his turn to leave. Waiting for the next boat to arrive.” She shuddered, lost in her own story. “I’ve never seen him. Rachel and I used to come down here from time to time and investigate but never at night. We were always too frightened. My father and the workers claim to have seen his ghost, though.”

Something brushed Andi’s arm. She yelped and spun around. She saw nothing but from behind her, Ford chuckled. She turned and narrowed her eyes.

“Sorry, I had to,” he said.

She swatted at his arm and laughed. “When Rachel and I snuck down here, we’d reenact my father’s stories. Boy, was my father mad the one time he found us.” She laughed again. “I don’t blame him. It’s not exactly the safest place for a kid.”