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My cheeks flushed slightly. "I will, and enjoy Rafe's cookies."
Dad clapped me on the shoulder and walked me to the door. "Take care of yourself, son. Remember, we're just a quick call away if you ever need anything."
I nodded, feeling a lump form in my throat. "I know, Dad. Thanks."
While I walked to the car, I submerged myself in my parents' warmth and love. No matter what happened with Ronan, I knew they would love me unconditionally.
When I climbed into the car, I took a moment to reflect on the conversation I had with my parents. They were a comfortable constant in my life, like they'd been my entire life. I grew up with a peaceful home life that provided a foundation for excelling in my chosen interests.
When I turned the key in the ignition, my car hummed to life. As I pulled out of the driveway, I thought about Ronan and the mysterious envelope again. I wondered what he'd discovered when he opened it. Would it have any impact on our relationship?
I focused on the streets of Blue Harbor as I drove. Too often, I took the beautiful tree-lined streets and quaint storefronts for granted. It was a picturesque town.
When I pulled into my driveway, my phone buzzed with an incoming text. It was from Ronan.
Meet me at the library in an hour if you can. I think I found something inside the envelope. Something big.
My heart leaped into my throat, and I typed out a quick reply.
I'll be there. Can't wait to see what you found.
Chapter five
Ronan
My eyes were bloodshot from so many hours of staring at the faded ink on my great-uncle's letter. It was full of elegant, romantic script and included a mysterious mention of Whispering Bluffs. It had to be some kind of key to whatever I was supposed to find in Blue Harbor. I grabbed my phone and texted Tyler. After a brief exchange, we agreed to meet at the Blue Harbor Public Library.
Libraries were a lifelong refuge for me. Almost every time I found myself in a new city or town, the public library was one of the first places I chose to visit. I particularly loved old-fashioned reading rooms, full of the scent of old books and the rustle of pages turning. When I looked down a long row of book stacks, the hundreds or thousands of stories waiting to be discovered comforted me.
When I was about eight years old, my parents took our family on a summer trip to a small town in the Cascade Mountains. The public library there, housed in a log cabin designed like a hunting lodge. became my refuge one rainy afternoon, while my parents explored the town.
For hours, I lost myself in an oversized history book full of tales of explorers from the Middle Ages. The librarian, a vibrant young woman with a gentle smile, fueled my fascination, bringing me stacks of additional books on the same subject. As a special treat, since we were in town for a week, she even let me borrow an old atlas with faded colorful illustrations that wasn't supposed to leave the building.
Her words stuck with me: "Every explorer needs a good map." That day, she forged my permanent bond with public libraries.
An hour later, I was sitting at a solid, rough-hewn wooden table in a quiet corner of the Blue Harbor Public Library with the pages of Great-Uncle Ian's letter spread out before me. Six-foot-high bookshelves full of volumes, old and new, surrounded me.
I heard footsteps approaching and looked up to see Tyler. His appearance made me bite my lip in excitement. He wore a soft blue Henley stretched across his muscular chest, and he lightly tossed his car keys up and down in his hand as he approached.
As he slid into a chair opposite me, he looked at the pages on the table. "So, is this the mysterious letter?"
I nodded and turned the delicate pages around, pushing them toward him. While he squinted and read the faded words, I watched his expression change from one of curiosity to full concentration. His brow furrowed when he reached the final page, where Whispering Bluffs was mentioned.
"This is amazing. Your Great-Uncle Ian was truly smitten with a woman. Reading his words about her is like reading something out of a romance novel."
I chuckled, but I knew what he meant and agreed. Great-Uncle Ian spoke of the woman with the highest praise, and there was a gentle intimacy about his writing that left me nearly breathless. "It's hard to imagine the great-uncle I knew as a lovesick young guy, but here's the proof in his own handwriting."
Tyler nodded and traced the faded ink with his index finger. "Whispering Bluffs, though. I've been here since I was a kid, and I've never heard of it. I'd think Theo might have said something about it, but no, I'd remember a name as poetic as that."
I sighed in frustration. "Have we hit a dead end?"
Tyler glanced around, and I sensed wheels turning in his head. "Maybe not. Why don't we ask the librarian? If anybody knows about hidden places in town, it would be them."
We stepped up to the reference desk, where a tall, young man sat, dark hair swept back from his forehead and wearing stylish black-framed glasses. He looked up from his computer screen and smiled.
"Can I help you with something?"
I cleared my throat, and I suddenly wondered whether my question was a ridiculously silly one. Maybe Great-Uncle Ian created Whispering Bluffs as another part of his wild stories. While I hesitated, Tyler elbowed me. "Oh, yes, I'm trying to find information about a place called Whispering Bluffs. My great-uncle mentioned it in a letter written over fifty years ago, but I can't find any record of it on maps."
