He smiled and picked up one of the books in the box. “I’ve always secretly wanted to write.”
“Mysteries,” I said, seeing he was holding The Maltese Falcon by Dashiell Hammett.
“I devoured mysteries when I was a teenager. I couldn’t get enough of them, still can’t, and as you know, mystery and suspense films as well.”
“You can make writing your second career,” I encouraged.
“I have given that thought,” he said, opening the book. “Oh my God, this is a first edition autographed to your aunt.” His eyes turned wide as he carefully set that book aside and reached for another. “The Thin Man, first edition, autographed to no specific person. One of these sold for over ten thousand dollars.” He set that carefully aside as well and continued going through the box. “First editions Agatha Christie, some autographed, some not. Charlotte Jay, Beat Not the Bones, she was a popular Australian mystery writer in the fifties through the seventies.” He stared a moment after opening another book. “Your aunt knew Hemingway?”
“She did?” I asked scooting over to him and was surprised to see what was inscribed inside.
A night I will always remember.
Ian pointed to the date. “It was1950, which would have made your aunt—”
“About twenty-three,” I said.
“And Hemingway would have been about fifty-one, if I recall correctly he was born in 1899.”
We both stared at the inscription, undoubtedly thinking the same thing, and I spoke because I didn’t think Ian wanted to say the obvious. “You don’t think her and Hemingway…?” I left it hanging there not able to say any more. Could my aunt have spent one night with Hemingway? What about Max, had she known him then or had they yet to meet?
“That’s impossible to know, unless…”
“Unless what?” I asked.
“Maybe she mentioned it to your mum in her later years, knowing she was one who could keep a secret.”
He handed me the book, The Sun Also Rises. Did I dare ask my mom and would she reveal an entrusted secret after all these years? I rifled carefully through the pages and stopped when I came upon a folded piece of paper.
I looked at Ian, almost unsure if I should open it.
“Maybe it will provide you with an answer.”
“But do I want to know? I’m learning more and more about my aunt through her letters to Max and other correspondence I’ve come across while cleaning out the attic, but part of me feels as if I’m peeking in on her life.”
Ian rested his hand over mine. “Your aunt left everything in this house to you, which means she wanted you to read whatever you found for whatever reason.”
“Maybe so,” I said, wondering if my aunt did purposely leave her correspondence for me to read about her life. Perhaps she thought it might help me to avoid problems she had faced, or had she meant to encourage me to live daringly?
I opened the paper, sharing it with Ian so we could both read it.
I don’t know what to do. It’s a decision I must make and while it should be easy, it is not. My heart aches every time I think of it. How do I choose? How do I betray
“She never finished her thought,” I said disappointed, wondering who had interrupted her and who she contemplated betraying. I sighed and leaned against Ian after returning the paper inside the book and placing it aside. “And I thought relationships were difficult today. It sounded as if they were more of a mess back then.”
He wrapped his arm around me and hugged me. “Not ours.”
“We’ve only been together a few months,” I reminded. “The bloom is fresh on the rose.”
“I am confident I can keep that bloom on your rose,” he said and nibbled playfully at my neck.
I chuckled and turned my face to catch his lips since I felt myself unfurling for him. He lowered me back on the floor and my thoughts turned to him and him alone. His kiss was always magic, and his intimate touch always stirred my senses. I cherished this moment until… Mo shoved his face between the two of ours, forcing an end to the kiss, to be replaced by his tongue lavishing my cheek.
“Mo!” I snapped and he plopped down beside me to rest his big head on my chest.
“I am going to put a lock on every door of your house,” Ian said.
Roxie showed up then to sit next to Mo and tapped her paw on my cheek.
“They’re hungry, aren’t they?” Ian asked.
I looked to see that it had grown dark outside. The skies had turned gray by the time we had gotten started, so I had turned on all the lights in the room. We had already unpacked and shelved several boxes and should have realized the time. I felt guilty for forgetting about the two.