Rachel Joy Scott Journal Novels & Stories

Chapter 257: The Rusty Hatchet On the drive from Crossroads to Manitoulin, Scott reflected on the past two weeks. Finishing up his time at the camp had been bittersweet. He'd made lifelong friends, and on most days, he knew his work there made a difference. But as he drove his red 1958 Ford F-150 down the narrow two-lane road through the northern Ontario wilderness, he felt an irrepressible sense of excitement at the prospect of the next chapter of his life.

She didn’t look convinced so I added, “You didn’t hear him a minute ago… he sounded like he was in pain.” “Fine, but I’m coming with you,” Rachel said with finality, grabbing her own coat. I gave her a thankful smile before leaving the room. I really didn’t like pubs; any kind of bar I tried to stay clear of. I wasn’t much of a drinker, and I certainly I didn't like hanging around drunk people. But from when I dated Scott, I remembered that he enjoyed

"What?" Juliet glances between us. "When Rachel left the house all those years ago... she forgot something." My heart skips. "What?" "A journal." Hayden's eyes lift slowly, and Juliet nods. "She wrote in it constantly. I remember seeing it when I was younger." Her voice drops further. "I read some of it once." "What was in it?" I ask, breathless. Juliet swallows hard. "Everything." Hayden's brow furrows. "What do you mean everything?"

they all said at the same time as they continued to admire Scott’s assets. Scott stood and turned around. He bumped his body against the door to close the fridge, cradling four water bottles in his hand. “I would be happy to fix you guys lunch if you’re hungry,” Rachel said. She was a redheaded bombshell who was always ready and willing to entertain a man – or men.

“He didn’t say what it was.” Dylan turned to face her completely. “Then whatever it is—we’ll be ready for it.” Rachel didn’t answer, her thoughts still storming. Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Stacy sat at the island flipping through Elira’s journal again, her eyes scanning each word with new intensity. This time, the entries felt heavier, like the pages themselves were weighed down by sorrow. Some passages bled raw emotion, while others were scribbled in shaky handwriting, almost illegible. Then she paused on a page she hadn’t noticed before.

She looked down at the journal in her hand—then back into the forest. “I’m going home.” “Racheal—” “I need to see Kade. I need to face the council. I need them to see meThe fire crackled low as Racheal sat beneath the twisted canopy of pines, the ancient leather-bound journal cradled in her lap. She was alone now. Jaxon had left her space—his instincts sharp enough to know that the weight of prophecy couldn’t be shared. Not yet. The journal smelled of age and ash. Its pages had survived fire, war, and time. Each line she read felt like a truth her blood already knew, even if her mind couldn’t accept it.

Curiosity outran caution, and Rachel stepped inside. She sat at the desk, hesitating for only a moment before reaching for the journal. Its pages chronicled thoughts raw and unsettling-revealing an obsessive fixation on Ethan, plans of undermining her in minute detail. Every word in Sophia's handwriting cut through the silence of the room with anger and bitterness.

The silence stretched after Rachel’s question, almost like the room was closing in on us. The radiator clanged loudly, and the old woman in the wheelchair seemed to watch us more intently. Rowan placed his almost-empty glass on the coffee table with a soft thud and leaned in, elbows on his knees, the journal sitting heavy in his lap like it held the weight of a trial. "Rachel," he began, his voice quiet but firm, "a few months back, we found Mom’s journal hidden away at the lake house in Clearwater. She wrote in it at least every month or so during her last year."

I closed my eyes and he continue leading me making sure I avoided twigs and roots on the forest floor. "Alright open your eyes" I did as he told . I gasped at the amazing sight I saw. "Wow" it turned he took me to a hidden creek , colourful birds came to the creek and drank from it, even squirrels and hamsters were running around, Wow this place is really beautiful "Wow Jack how did you find this place" I asked turning to face him. "I had some connections, do you like it" he asked "I love it" I said, a squirrel ran up my body and to my hair messing it up. I chuckled and got hold of the little creature.

"But it might be useful at the criminal trial. Shows Rachel didn't trust Lucas. Shows she was afraid." They pack up the boxes. Elara keeps the journal. It's one of the few things she has left from her life as Rachel. A connection to who she was. That night, she reads the entire journal. Rachel's hopes and fears. Her thoughts about marriage and motherhood. Her growing concerns about Lucas.