A Clue in the Stew

by Connie Archer

  “I see. It’s as I feared. I only have the name of the birth mother, but not the child’s name or birth date.”

  “Ah.” The woman shook her head. “You’d have to at least have the birth date. Then you could go through public records for births on that day. But that could be a real chore. Unless, of course, the mother filed a request for nondisclosure.”

  “What does that mean?” Lucky asked.

  “Well, you see, the law changed about, oh, twenty years ago to make it possible for adoptees, adoptive parents and birth family members to access adoption information in Vermont. But you’d have to prove you were in one of those categories because the records are still confidential. The parties involved would both have to consent. If the mother requested nondisclosure, her information would be kept confidential. But even that might not hold up in court anymore. If there were a good reason, say health issues, for example, a judge could order that the mother’s information be made available.”

  “I understand. Then I guess there’d be no way for me to locate this person.”

  “There is another avenue,” she offered.

  “Oh? What’s that?”

  “There’s a database. It’s called ConnectAdopt. I don’t know much about it. I’m not sure which organization maintains it, but people who want to find biological family members post information, birth names if they were given one, birthdates, city and state, whatever they actually know or were told. Often someone is looking for them too and people connect on their own. It’s a marvelous service. It always brings tears to my eyes when I read some of the stories.”

  “Well, that’s something. I could do that. You never know. You see, the birth mother has just died. I certainly didn’t know her well at all, but I have just learned she had a child that had been put up for adoption and it occurred to me that this girl, this woman, I mean, might want to know.”

  “Yes, you’re right. Some people spend their whole life wondering and hoping. Some of them never care and some actually aren’t even told they were adopted. There are thousands of stories. It’s really fascinating, if it weren’t so heartbreaking most of the time.”

  “Well, thanks for your help. I do appreciate it.”

  “You might also want to contact the Vermont Adoption Registry. I know they can’t give you any information but perhaps they could suggest an alternative. It’s a long shot but . . . here,” she said, taking a pen off the desk. “They’re right here on Main Street in Bournmouth.” She jotted something on a piece of notepaper and passed it across the desk. “Here’s their phone number.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate this.”

  “Good luck, dear. I wish you the best.”

  • • •

  “THAT’S AMAZING,” SOPHIE remarked. “She stole his book and published it as her own.” The Spoonful had closed for the evening. Sage was in the kitchen, cleaning up for the night. Meg was lending a hand while Sophie waited for Sage to be finished with his work. “Isn’t that illegal?”

  “I don’t know about that. I don’t think it’s a criminal matter. But Hank would have to sue her and be able to prove it. And there’s no way he’d want that kind of publicity. I’m sure of that.” Lucky took a sip of her tea. “But, Sophie, please keep this under your hat. It will probably all come out eventually. Hank will have to return to town sooner or later.”

  “He’s crazy to take off like that. It just draws attention to him. I’m sure Nate’s getting very hot under the collar about it.”

  “I’d really like to try to locate this woman—Hilary’s daughter. It’s been preying on my mind. I can’t put it into words, but I can’t escape the thought that she wants to find her birth mother. Maybe she’s wanted that her whole life. She needs to know.”

  “How in heaven’s name are you going to be able to do that?”

  “Well, I’ll check with the Vermont Adoption Registry, but I don’t really expect to get anywhere with that. Today, I ran into a wall. But I realized I do know one thing. According to Hank, as least as far as he remembers, her adoptive parents died in a fire in Bournmouth about thirty years ago. There must be a record of that fire. It would have been in several newspapers. Then at least I might be able to find out her adopted name.”

  “But if she ended up back in the system, her name could have changed again, she could be married, with a different name now. Unless you have access to really confidential databases, it would be impossible to find her.”

  “I know.” Lucky nodded. “But I feel I should at least try. If I have no luck, then I can break down and tell Nate about it. He would be able to find her, I’m sure.”

  “Maybe. It might even be tough for him to sort through.”

  “I think I’ll do what the woman I spoke with today suggested. Contact the Registry. And then I might try to find out more about that fire. It must have been in all the papers.”

  “You’re thinking the library in Bournmouth might have local papers on microfilm? What about the Snowflake Gazette?”

  “Was it even in existence thirty years ago? I don’t think so. I seem to remember what a big deal everyone thought it was when it started. We were just starting high school then, maybe almost twenty years ago. And I’m not even sure about the time frame but it’s worth a try, don’t you think?”

  “Sure. I’ll drive over with you. Can you get away tomorrow afternoon?”

  “I think so. Now that Nanette’s running things here.”

  Sophie made a rude face.

  Chapter 36

  LUCKY GLANCED UP at the murals on the ceiling, admiring the dark ornately carved moldings that surrounded the images. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it, Sophie?”

  Sophie agreed. “I haven’t been here for such a long time.” She chuckled. “Probably since we were kids in high school.”

  “I used to come a lot in high school, but I haven’t been back for a visit since I’ve been living in Snowflake. It’s a shame. It’s such a great building. Wish we had something like this in our town.”

  “I know, but at least we have our little library. It’s something.” Sophie glanced around. “Let’s find someone who can help us.” She spotted a woman at the information desk, dressed in dark clothing with a spiky blonde haircut. Sophie nudged Lucky with an elbow. “She looks like she knows what she’s doing.”

  They approached the librarian and explained what they were looking for.

  “Oh, that’s interesting.” The woman leaned over the counter. “I remember my mother and grandmother talking about that fire. It must have been pretty shocking for the town in its time.”

  Lucky relished the smell of polished wood and old books and a faint odor of something else. What was it, she thought, then recognized the pungent odor of the glue used to repair bindings. “Do you remember anything about it? Or the people involved?”

  The blonde woman shook her head slowly. “No, not a thing. I was pretty young when it happened so I didn’t really pay much attention.” She laid her pen across the notepad she had been writing on. “But come on, I’ll take you to the little room we use for viewing and I’ll order the film from the archives.” She came out from behind the oak counter and indicated they should follow her. “Do you know the actual date you’re looking for?”

  Sophie shook her head. “Sorry, no. We have an idea it was about thirty years ago, give or take a few.”

  “That’s quite a ways back. I’ll have to search, but I do think we have it . . . hopefully you’ll find what you’re looking for. Follow me.” She led them to the rear of the main space, through a door that opened into a small modern cubicle with three microfilm viewers set across a counter. Three plastic chairs with aluminum legs faced the counter. “We have plans to digitize this stuff, but it hasn’t happened yet. Money’s always the issue, isn’t it? But that far back, nobody’s bothered.” Indicating the chairs, she said, “Have a seat. I’ll be back in a lit
tle while and I’ll make sure you can thread it in with no trouble.”

  “Thanks,” Lucky replied. She sighed and sat heavily in one of the molded chairs. Sophie did the same. She looked at Sophie. “This may be a wild-goose chase.”

  “Could be. But now I’m curious too. Besides, we do know that it really happened. Hank remembered the state trying to contact her mother and he remembered about a fire. If the little girl was ten at the time, it would have been approximately thirty years ago. But Hank might have blown the story out of proportion too.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, maybe nobody died. Maybe the fire story was repeated so many times, it just grew and took on a life of its own.”

  “Then why would the state be trying to contact the birth mother if the adoptive parents were still alive? Why else would they do that? If the child had been adopted and that home was no longer there and the state couldn’t figure out what to do with the little girl.”

  “There could be any number of reasons. Maybe one of the parents died and the other parent was no longer up to the task of raising a child that wasn’t theirs.”

  “I never thought of that. How horrible though. To give a child a home and then send her back. Can people do that?”

  Sophie shrugged. “I have no idea how the whole thing works.”

  They heard the door to the main room open and the woman with the spiky blonde haircut entered. She held a sturdy cardboard box of microfilm reels in her hands. “Here you go,” she said. “I’ll thread the first one in so you can see how it’s done.” Her fingers moved deftly. “Think you can do the next one?”

  “Sure,” Lucky offered. “I’ve done these before.”

  “Great, when you’re finished, please bring them all back to me at the front desk. This first one starts at the beginning of the year, thirty-one years ago. Might be a good idea to start there.” She turned away. “Good luck,” she said as she closed the door behind her.

  Sophie pulled her chair closer to the viewing screen. “I’ll bet this was front page news, don’t you think?”

  “I would think so, even though it was just a local story.” Lucky patiently scrolled through each page. “Hey, look at this. The Gazette was just a weekly back then. That might make our search easier.”

  They stared intently at the screen as each page flipped by. Lucky rubbed her eyes to stay focused. When they had scrolled through the first year, Sophie removed the reel and threaded a second one in.

  “Here we go. This is the beginning of the year—January.” Sophie returned to her chair. Lucky continued their search. Neither spoke as they watched the pages flip by.

  Sophie groaned. “Stop for a second. My eyes are crossing. I don’t know how you can look at this stuff and not have your brain swim inside your skull.”

  “I know,” Lucky replied, not taking her eyes off the viewing screen. “But I think we’re almost through this year. I’m not seeing anything about a deadly house fire.”

  “Well, since we don’t know the date, best thing would be to finish this year and then move to the next one. If there’s nothing there, we can go back two years and forward two years. That would be the logical way to approach it.”

  “Oh!” Lucky exclaimed. “I think this is it.” She peered at the screen. “Look at this—December twentieth. Just before Christmas.”

  “What do you know?” Sophie breathed. She moved closer to the screen and read out loud. “‘The fire at 49 Poplar Street was first reported at eleven p.m. on the night of December twentieth. Mr. and Mrs. George Ellers and their daughter Georgina were asleep in the upstairs bedroom when a neighbor walking his dog heard glass breaking and spotted fire in a downstairs room.’” Sophie looked at Lucky. “Georgina? They must have named her after the dad.”

  “Look. There’s a picture of the firemen removing a body. How gruesome!” Sophie remarked. “Story continued on page ten, it says.”

  Lucky scrolled forward and they read together in silence. Finally Lucky spoke. “They did die. It says the parents were pronounced dead at the scene.”

  “Anything about the little girl?” Sophie asked.

  Lucky shook her head. “This doesn’t mention her. I would assume she survived if they didn’t mention her death.” She sat back in the chair and stared at the screen. “So assuming we’re right, the little girl, Georgina, lived through the fire but the parents died.” Lucky heaved a sigh. “This still doesn’t tell us what eventually happened to her.”

  “Assuming this is Hilary’s daughter. We’re making some jumps here.”

  “Maybe, but Hank did say there was a fire, and it was in Bournmouth. And this is the right time frame. It’s a decent bet. And it gives us an address. Right here in town. Let’s go check it out.”

  “What good will that do?”

  “How much do you want to bet there’s a neighbor who’d remember more?”

  Chapter 37

  LUCKY PULLED TO a stop under a large elm tree. New spring shoots cast a pale green wash over the street. She checked the house number to her right. “That’s 80 Poplar.” She turned in the opposite direction and scanned a manicured lot. “If that piece of property doesn’t belong to the house next door, that could have been where the house once stood.”

  Sophie leaned across and stared. “If that’s the case, then the neighbors must be taking care of it. It looks more like a small planned play area for the kids. There’s a lovely lawn and a garden I can see from here. And it’s the only gap in the street.”

  “The city must have torn down what was left of the house. Maybe nobody wanted to buy the land and rebuild on the same spot.”

  “Superstitious, probably. If a couple died there, it might linger in people’s memories.” They were silent a moment staring at the green space. On the lawn, two children, a boy and a girl, played with a bright pink ball while a young woman seated at a bench looked on. “What do we do now?”

  “Let’s go talk to her,” Lucky said, indicating the woman who was watching over the two children.

  “In for a penny, in for a pound,” Sophie remarked.

  They climbed out of the car and walked across the street. The young woman they had noticed was wearing a loose-fitting top. She was pregnant. She watched them with curiosity as they approached.

  Lucky spoke first. “Hi. I’m wondering if you can help us.”

  The woman smiled. “Sure, if I can.”

  “It’s kind of a long story, but we’re hoping to locate someone who knew the family that once lived here. This is the lot where the house burned down, isn’t it?”

  The woman opened her eyes in surprise. “Whoa. That was a long time ago. I have heard all about it”—she hesitated—“my mother and my aunt talked about it for years.” She squinted her eyes against the sun. “You know that the people who lived here died in the fire, don’t you?”

  “Yes, we read about it. Their name was Ellers, right? But they had a little girl, didn’t they?”

  “I guess.” She shrugged. “I really can’t tell you very much.” She glanced behind Sophie. “Ally, stop that. You’re not supposed to hit your brother.” The young woman turned back to them, “The person you should talk to is my aunt. She’d remember that fire. She’s right across the street. She’s always lived in that house.” The young woman nodded in the direction of a blue two-story colonial-style house, the same one Lucky had parked in front of. Lucky heard a wailing cry and a small boy careened past and flung himself into his mother’s lap. The woman put her arms around him and absently stroked his head. “Shh, baby.” She looked over at the young girl, who was bouncing the ball on her foot like a soccer ball. “Ally, get over here, right now!” She turned back to Lucky and Sophie. “Go ahead and knock on her door. Her name’s June. Tell her you just met me. I’m April.” She smiled suddenly. “All the women in the family are named after months. I broke the mold with Ally her
e.” She nodded in the direction of the little girl, who had ignored her mother’s command. Lucky would have offered to shake her hand but the young woman had her hands full.

  “Thanks. That’s very kind of you. We appreciate it,” Lucky replied.

  “No problem.” The woman had pulled out a tissue and was wiping tears and various other juices pouring out of the little boy’s nose.

  They turned away and left the garden. “I should never have kids,” Sophie muttered. “I think I’d be tempted to kill them.”

  Lucky laughed. “I’ll remind you of that someday soon.”

  “I can hear the ‘I told you so’ now,” Sophie whispered as they climbed the stairs to the blue house.

  Lucky rang the bell and a solidly built woman in a housedress and apron opened the door. Her hair was gray and curly and pulled off her face with a headband.

  “Hi. Are you June?”

  The woman nodded.

  “We were just talking to April, your niece.” Lucky indicated the opposite yard where the young woman was packing up to leave.

  “Oh, yes?”

  “We’re hoping to find someone who knew the family who lived across the street years ago.”

  “Ah.” The woman’s face fell. “Yes, the Ellers family. What about them?”

  “Well, we know they died in the fire. But we’re wondering if you might know what happened to their little girl?”

  The woman stared at Lucky silently, then sighed. “You better come in.” She opened the door all the way and ushered them into a room filled with sunlight and bright colors, a neat but pleasantly lived-in room. “Have a seat,” she said, indicating the sofa. The woman took a chair opposite. “Liz Ellers was a good friend of mine. She was a really lovely woman. So the whole thing hit me really hard. To have that happen right outside your door and to lose a friend.” She took a deep breath. “It doesn’t matter how many years go by, I still think of her sometimes.”