Valley of Secrets Read online

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  No part of this publication may be sold, copied, distributed, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical or digital, including photocopying and recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of both the publisher, Oliver Heber Books and the author, Kari Lee Townsend, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  PUBLISHER'S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © Kari Lee Townsend

  Published by Oliver-Heber Books

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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also By The Author

  To all the mothers out there who have loved and lost. You are not alone. And to my mother, Marion Harmon, who is the strongest, most inspiring woman I know. This one’s for you, Mom 😉

  1

  “Your visions will become clear only when you can look into your own heart. Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.”

  Carl Jung

  The sun was shining the day Jordan Mills found out she was broken. Syracuse, New York, didn’t get much sunshine. When it did, it was considered a gift. But it didn’t feel like a gift to Jordan when shiny rays of hope blanketed everything as her whole world fell apart, much like it was doing today. A bright shiny day, six months later in the Spring.

  A shiny day when Jordan’s life would change forever.

  She set down the Sunday newspaper, pushed her untouched wheat toast away, inhaled the warmed lavender essential oil, and strived for calm as she stared out the window of her fully restored landmark historic house, not far from Syracuse University. A lot of the old buildings had been renovated and turned into apartments, but an apartment would never be good enough for her husband. They had the entire building to themselves, which normally she wouldn’t mind, but nothing was normal about her life anymore. She felt more alone than ever in a house this big.

  The snow had melted. When had that happened? It wouldn’t be long before tulips poked their silky heads through the soft earth and bloomed with color. She used to love Spring. Loved the time when everything was fresh and new. When everything started to grow. Life needed sun to grow. Maybe she didn’t get enough sun. Maybe that was why she was broken. She blinked and was taken back to the Fall when everything began to die.

  “I’m so sorry,” Dr. Hamlin said, a genuine look of regret shadowing his haggard features.

  He looked thinner than the last time she had seen him, his lab coat now one size too big. He was her husband Erik’s age, forty-three, but looked much older with a head full of gray hair and a lot more wrinkles. They’d gone to college together, Matthew graduating with an MD in obstetric gynecology, and Erik with a PhD in literature. They had both chosen to stay in the area and work. They weren’t exactly close, but they’d never lost touch completely. Matthew was a top OBGYN doctor at University Hospital, and Erik was a professor at Syracuse University. Erik trusted Matthew, and Jordan had trusted Erik. Trusted him with her heart, her soul, and her future the day he’d swept her off her feet and asked her to marry him, thirteen years ago.

  She’d grown up as Jordanna Wilkinson, at Wilkinson’s Winery on Cayuga Lake, the second largest of the Central New York glacial Finger Lakes. She was the youngest of six girls. She loved having sisters and her mother was kind, but Jordan had never really been like the rest of them. Her father was about as old-fashioned as they came, believing girls didn’t need an education. They were meant to be wives and mothers, pampered and cherished for all of their days.

  That’s all Jordanna had ever known.

  All of her sisters had gone on to happily marry and have children right out of high school, so when three years went by, she was terrified the fairy tale would never happen for her. And then what would she do? She could have sworn she heard someone whisper, Think for yourself. Get a life. Do whatever the hell you want to, back in those days, but she’d always laughed off her crazy thoughts and tried to stay positive. Hopeful. That’s why when handsome, dashing Erik Mills—nine years her senior—had shown up, he’d seemed like Prince Charming, with golden-blond hair and sky-blue eyes.

  Erik came from money. He was the last of the Mills, and desperate to carry on his family’s name by having a son. As taken with Jordanna as she was with him, he made her Mrs. Jordan Mills and she couldn’t have been happier. They truly had been happy at first. He introduced her to a whole new life in Syracuse, showering her with gifts, pampering her with spa treatments and luxurious vacations, and proudly displaying her about at department parties. All she had to do in return was adore him and give him a son. They’d talked excitedly over names and whether the baby would look like him or have her auburn hair and jade-green eyes. They’d even decorated a nursery, presumptuously assuming it would all be that easy.

  Over the years, their happiness began to fade as they tried and tried without success to conceive. The pressure became unbearable, but nothing compared to the disappointment simmering in Erik’s eyes. When he suggested they see his longtime friend, Jordan had agreed immediately, desperate to try anything that might help them have a baby. She just never imagined there would be nothing in the world that could possibly help them now.

  “Are you sure, Matt?” Erik asked the doctor after clearing his throat.

  Erik sat ramrod straight, his sweater vest a perfect fit over his casual cotton pants with matching shirt and tie, not a hair out of place. His usual work attire. Unlike Dr. Hamlin, Erik looked younger than his years and more handsome than ever. He couldn’t look at Jordan. Her stomach turned over. Why wouldn’t he look at her? She’d made sure she was impeccably dressed in the latest fashion, with her hair artfully styled, her posture perfect, knowing she was a reflection of him. So why wouldn’t he look at her? She started to shake in the cold, impersonal exam room. Dr. Matthew Hamlin might be the best in his field, but he wasn’t exactly the warm fuzzy type. It was no shock that he wasn’t married.

  Dr. Hamlin stared at Erik for a long moment and then nodded sadly. “I truly am sorry.”

  The doctor wouldn’t look at Jordan either. She couldn’t seem to inhale enough air, the pungent scent of antiseptic making her queasy. Why wouldn’t anyone look at her? Her skin itched on the inside, and she wanted to crawl outside of her own body. A body that wasn’t a temple anymore, but an empty, useless cage. Oh my God, she was trapped inside an empty, useless cage! She desperately wanted out, but there was nothing anyone could do about it. No one could help her now. Matt was the best. All hope was lost.

  “I’m broken,” she said on barely more than a whisper, and something inside of her cracked. A sharp pain pierced her heart as the doctor’s words sank in.

  She was infertile.

  Her dream of becoming a mother would never happen now. Not ever. Because she wasn’t whole. They’d tried IVF among other things, but n
othing ever worked. And now she knew why. It was all her fault. Something about her irregular ovulation and hormone deficiencies. She would never feel the flutter of new life growing inside of her womb. Never give birth to a precious creation that was a part of her. Never hold her child in her arms and look into eyes and see herself. Wasn’t that why God created Woman? To give life? That was all she’d ever wanted. Wasn’t it? Of course it was.

  After the shock wore off, the blame set in. She knew she was sounding irrational, but there had to be a reason why she was defective. Her skin was so fair, she’d always been lectured to stay out of the sun. Could that be why? Why had she listened? Everyone knew life needed sunlight to grow. She’d been so stupid to stay out of the sun. Suddenly she couldn’t blame Dr. Hamlin or Erik for not looking at her. Couldn’t blame her husband when she later found out he’d had an affair with a younger student of his and the woman was pregnant with his child. Couldn’t blame him when he filed for divorce and traded her in for something better. Someone whole.

  A robin chirped outside Jordan’s window, bringing her back to the present. Back to the papers on her table that said her divorce was final. Back to the campus e-mail stating Erik was the proud father of a healthy baby boy. Back to the newspaper article announcing his engagement. Jordan was numb. She hadn’t cried or yelled or done anything, really. For six months she’d sat alone, licking her wounds and slowly dying inside, no longer stylish and fashionable. What was the point?

  No one wanted a broken woman.

  Her parents were disappointed with all that had happened, of course, encouraging her to return to the vineyard and try again. She was only thirty-four, after all. There was still hope she could remarry. She wasn’t that broken, and she could always adopt. She could start over. Maybe they were right. Six months was long enough to wallow in self-pity. She really should get on with her life, but how could she do anything when all she felt was empty inside?

  Jordan couldn’t decide what to do because she’d never had to. Everything had always been decided for her. First by her family and then by Erik. Her mother begged her to at least come for lunch. The sun was shining, and it was a beautiful day. She and Erik had always gone to Sunday dinners at her parents’ with her siblings and their families, but Jordan hadn’t been back since Erik had left her, and her parents hadn’t pressed until now. Doing what she always did, Jordan listened to them, even though she’d come to hate the sun.

  A few hours later, Jordan arrived at Wilkinson’s Winery on the long, narrow, fingerlike Cayuga Lake. The place where she’d grown up. Her family home. She hadn’t appreciated it back then, but she was old enough now to realize how impressive the place really was. She drove her Mercedes down the long driveway past the large barn used to produce wine from several types of grapes. Jordan knew the winemaking process by heart: fermentation of the fruit, blending and aging the juice, then bottling and sealing the wine. She drove past the sophisticated wine cellar that housed the barrels and the charming tasting room, until she reached the ancient two-story colonial house overlooking the lake, that had been in her family for generations. The house might be old, but it was impeccably kept, with class and good taste.

  Her father used to be the winemaker, having learned the craft from his father, who’d learned from his father before that, and so on. For generations, a Wilkinson had been at the helm, but Henry Wilkinson didn’t have any sons. Six daughters he pampered and adored, but didn’t trust to take over. None of them had complained, happy in their roles of wives and mothers. At thirty-four, Jordan had no desire to take over, not that her father would let her. She’d left at twenty-one. Techniques had changed a lot since then, with modern technology improvements she knew nothing about.

  Come to think of it, she didn’t know much about a lot of things she suddenly realized. Did being pampered and cherished really involve being naïve? Ignorant? She sighed as she shut off the engine and stared at the house. How had she let her life come to this? Shallow emptiness with no depth. She knew how. She’d been so focused on adoring her husband and getting pregnant that she’d lost sight of everything else, including herself. She really should go in. They were all there with their husbands and children, waiting for her.

  It was almost too much to bear.

  Beyond the house stood rows of grapevines that called to her. Nature had always called to her soul, beckoning for her to do… what, she wasn’t exactly sure. Today the urge to follow was stronger than ever. Jordan climbed out of her car and bypassed the house, heading for the vineyard. She tightened her thick sweater coat around her, as March in central NY could be quite chilly still. The snow had melted and the lake thawed out, looking pristine and beautiful in the distance. A calming presence that spoke to her. This place had always had that effect on her. The trees and vines were bare, but would soon sprout leaves and buds now that Spring was upon them. The whole winery had an air of elegance and refinery. In fact, her entire life had been elegant and refined.

  Their winery was housed on the southern end of the lake, near Ithaca. The northern end consisted of shallow mudflats and marshes that drew various migratory birds and encompassed a national wildlife refuge, whereas the southern end consisted of boaters and sport fisherman. Jordan and her sisters used to hang out at the marina and the yacht club on the western shore. Their father had a boat, and they’d soon realized the club was an excellent place to meet eligible bachelors who measured up to his standards.

  Jordan’s sisters had a much easier time of finding a husband than she did. They were all beautiful. Tall and elegant with various shades of blond hair and blue eyes like their mother. Jordan was the only one who looked different. Her father had brown hair back in the day—it was stark white now—and jade-green eyes. She had her father’s eyes, but that’s where the resemblance ended. She looked much more like her Aunt Annabeth, with her fiery-red hair and sparkling emerald-green eyes, only Jordan’s hair was a darker auburn and eyes a paler green.

  She smiled fondly as she walked through the rows of vines, running her fingers lightly over the branches, realizing she hadn’t thought of her aunt in years. Not since she was ten years old and her aunt passed away. Jordan’s smile faded sadly. She missed her aunt. Probably because her mother and sisters were elegant angels who enjoyed being pampered and cherished. Jordan remembered feeling a longing for something more like her aunt. She was the strongest, most independent woman Jordan had ever known. Her father had named her Jordanna, the anna part after her aunt Annabeth.

  Henry had adored his sister when Jordan was born. Annabeth was ten years younger than Henry, who was thirty-five when Jordan arrived. But as the years went by, Annabeth became fearless. Stubborn and strong-willed, she had no desire to get married, shocking everyone. She’d defiantly changed her name to Anna Wilks as she grew increasingly bold, going on grand adventures and taking unnecessary risks, happy not to settle down. Happy with who she was. Happy to do whatever she damn well pleased, Jordan had once heard her say. No matter how much Henry or their father had tried to talk sense into Annabeth, she wouldn’t listen.

  Jordanna had wanted to be just like her.

  When Anna died in a skydiving accident at thirty-five, Jordan was ten. She’d been devastated, but her father cut her grieving short and quickly steered her back on track, where she grew up and forgot what it was like to be adventuresome and fearless. She thought she’d been happy with her role in life, until now. Jordan suddenly realized with the utmost clarity that it was the role of mother that had called to her, not so much the wife part. She’d simply accepted the rest in order to get what she wanted, but now it was all gone, and she was left with no idea who she was or what she wanted out of life. She still hadn’t cried. In fact, she didn’t remember crying much about anything since she was ten. She couldn’t, because she felt hollow and empty, with nothing left inside. Not even tears.

  Jordan looked up and realized she hadn’t walked this far through the vineyard since she was a child. She sucked in a breath as she looked at th
e strand of trees before her. The fort she and her aunt had built so many years ago was still there. For the first time in a long time, she felt a spark of the carefree child, full of excitement and wonder, ignite within her. Biting her bottom lip, she looked around, but no one was nearby. She climbed into the circle of trees under the rotting wooden roof and sat on a large boulder. Once the leaves came in, the whole world would be shut out, just the way she and her aunt had liked it. The hideaway had been their secret haven. Their safe space to think and dream and write. Jordan had forgotten about that. She’d forgotten about this place.

  She’d forgotten about a lot of things.

  A strong desire to be close to her aunt settled over her, and Jordan wondered if the box was still there. Looking around frantically, she spotted the metal box, barely visible beneath layers of old dried leaves, and tucked under the blackberry bush where they used to hide it. Holding the box tight in both hands, she returned to the rock. Her heart started beating harder as she dropped to her knees to expose the precious contents from her youth.

  She picked up the box, skimming her fingers along its rusted edges, anxious to rediscover the many hopes and dreams she’d stored inside. Inhaling a deep breath of crisp air that smelled like wet dirt and lake water, she pried the rusted lid open. Her lips parted for a moment, then she swallowed the lump in her throat and stared at her diary. Carefully picking it up, she flipped through the pages. The childish scribbling of a confused ten-year-old scrawled across the pages.