Trixie turned around in her seat. “Stormi, wear a pair of hose under your pants. I swear it keeps my legs warm. Sometimes I even wear two pairs on these bird legs.”
“Now that’s a solution I could live with,” Stormi chirped.
The rest of the trip to Sinking Springs passed with the four of us talking about townspeople we all knew and how we were ready for spring. None of us liked cold weather, but we knew it helped us appreciate the warmer weather all the more.
Sinking Springs was a small town so finding Mr. Strickland’s office downtown was rather easy. The small brick building was old and the square plate glass window out front displayed his name with Private Detective underneath. As we walked into the building, the wood boards creaked underneath. There was an old couch and a couple of chairs sitting in the front room. The coffee table in front of the couch was littered with old magazines. The smell inside the space was musty with a hint of brewed coffee. I loved the smell of coffee, but not laced with mildew.
Stormi waved a hand in front of her nose. “Maybe we should have met him in Caesars Creek.”
“You mean you don’t like my swanky digs.” Mr. Strickland emerged from the one door leading to what I assume was his office. He wasn’t very tall, maybe 5’6”. He was a little on the hefty side with a shock of thick gray hair adorning his head. He wore an old grayish suit with a white shirt and a thin light green tie. The ensemble looked rather worn and I doubted he had much better in his wardrobe. But his eyes held a twinkle that belied anything he was wearing.
Trixie stepped forward and held out her hand. “My name is Trixie Florez and I’m the woman requesting your assistance in a delicate matter.”
Mr. Strickland took her hand in his. “It’s very nice to meet you Trixie, but I’d like for you all to call me by my first name, Gabe.”
“Short for Gabriel I presume,” Trixie replied.
“You presume right,” Gabe answered.
Trixie introduced the rest of us and then Gabe had us sit down in his waiting room on the old couch and chairs. Trixie laid out her story for Gabe. He took notes in a small notebook and asked various questions, including if Trixie remembered any of the nurse’s names.
“Do you remember any nurses who took care of you at the home? They may be able to provide some useful information for us,” Gabe asked in his gravelly voice.
Trixie looked out the dirty front window. “There was a sweet young nurse who took care of us girls. Her name was Abby…Abby Wainwright I believe it was. Another nurse was older, so she may have passed by now. Her name was Trina, but I can’t remember her last name. Oh and there was someone else.”
Trixie got a faraway look in her eyes. “I doubt this woman is still around either. If she is she’d be at least 90 but I think she’d be even older than that. She was the administrator of the unwed girl’s home, but she ruled it like a prison. She had neither sympathy nor patience for us. We were the filth of the earth in her eyes. An abomination.”
“Why in the world would she even be a part of such a facility if she felt so strongly against the girls?” Paige asked.
“Who knows,” Trixie sighed. “Maybe she felt it was her calling to strip us of our dignity….like we weren’t already feeling down and out as it was. But actually she made good money there; at least that’s what I heard at the time. And it wasn’t just us girls that felt her wrath…the nurses were just as scarred as the rest of us. The six months I was there the turnover of nurses had to be 80 percent, except for Trina and Abby. For some reason they hung on. Maybe they felt sorry for us girls, I’m not sure. But Margaret Kreinhagen, that was her name, her imprint on my soul has never left.”
We all sat in silence for a few moments, not knowing what to say. Was it possible that Trixie’s bleak past was even more bitter? The only consolation was she only had to endure this woman’s hatred for six months of her life. Suddenly Gabe broke the silence.
“I’m going to make some calls this afternoon and find out who we need to talk to and where they can be located. Many of the unwed girl’s homes were done away with, but Mercy hospital may have the adoption records or at least a way to find out where they are.”
Gabe stood. “I’ll see what I can drum up on these women as well.”
Trixie looked at Mr. Strickland. “If Miss Margaret is still around she’d most likely know where the records are. But be prepared for a fight, especially if she finds out why you want them. I think she’d rather die than give a woman like me a chance to find her son.”
We thanked Mr. Strickland and loaded into Paige’s SUV. The mood was somber and I could tell the painful memories of the unwed girl’s home and subsequently giving up her child had taken a toll on Trixie. She looked like she’d aged 10 years since we arrived at Mr. Strickland’s office. I hated seeing her like that. It was as if a part of her was missing. The jovial side that we’d become accustomed to seeing had faded.
Then a thought occurred to me. Maybe the person we see on the outside isn’t always what’s lurking on the inside. Trixie has always appeared as a strong woman, but perhaps that was the façade she wanted the world to see. Maybe deep down she wasn’t as resilient as we’d all thought. I was worried about her. The ride home had us all a bit solemn. Even Stormi couldn’t change the mood with her ramblings.
That evening after dinner, I told Brandon of that day’s adventure and meeting Mr. Strickland.
“So do you think he’ll find the necessary information to locate Trixie’s son?”
I set two glasses of wine on the coffee table and sat down on the sofa. Winchester curled up beside Brandon. Guess he wanted some male bonding time.
“I don’t know. I don’t even know if this is a good idea or not.”
Brandon reached for his wine glass. “Why do you say that?”
I took a sip of wine. “Just the way Trixie seemed after the meeting with Mr. Strickland. She seemed, well…just not herself. Like it took everything out of her. And this woman…”
Brandon rubbed Winchester’s head. “What woman?”
“Trixie said she was the head of the unwed girl’s home and she sounded like a she devil.”
“But that sounds like some women I know…I’m even related to a few,” Brandon teased.
I smacked him on the arm. He could always make me laugh, even in the worst of circumstances.
“No, Trixie made this woman out to be pure evil. She treated the girls like dirt and wasn’t much better with the nurses. She made their lives miserable while she was there.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound good. You say it took a lot out of Trix to relive that again?”
I sat my wine glass back on the table. “She wasn’t herself on the way home. Just stared out the car window. That’s why I don’t know if this is the best thing for her.”
“You can’t make that decision for her. If this is what she wants to do, all you can do is be there for her. She’s wise enough to know if she should go through with it or not.”
Brandon was right. It wasn’t my call to make, it was Trixie’s. And I think at this point she was bound and determined to go through with it. Paige, Stormi and I would be there to pick up the pieces. I just hoped we could put her back together again after it was all said and done.
*****
The next few days life went on as usual. Stormi and I continued to deep clean The Frozen Scoop Shoppe and Winchester would entertain us during breaks as we’d toss a small ball here and there and he’d run to track it down between the chairs and tables. Normally I wouldn’t have him scurrying around the shoppe when customers were coming in for their ice cream fix, but this week the store was closed so Winnie could play all he wanted to.
Paige stopped in two days after our trip to Sinking Springs to see if we’d heard anything from Trixie. Stormi and I stopped our cleaning and sat down with Paige who had brought us each a latte from the café down the street.
Stormi pulled her cup out of the cardboard box Paige brought them in. “The mocha’s mine right?”
“Yes dear,” Paige replied. “I also got mocha because I need my chocolate fix since I can’t get any ice cream.”
“You can go to the grocery and get chocolate ice cream.” Stormi suddenly realized what she said and turned to me. “Uh oh…”
I squinted my eyes at her. “Blasphemy!”
Paige took a sip of her latte. “No way would Bruce allow anything but Tara’s ice cream in the house and I agree. Everything pales in comparison.”
“Well actually I broke down and bought a gallon of chocolate last night at the grocery,” I confessed.
Stormi was vindicated. “I don’t feel so bad now.” I gave her another look. “But you will never hear those words cross my lips again…I promise.” I smiled. We had to give Stormi a hard time every once in a while, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.
As we sat enjoying our lattes and watching Winchester perform various tricks Brandon taught him, there was a knock on the front door. It was Trixie. She looked better than the last time I’d seen her.
I unlocked the door. “Trixie, have you heard from Mr. Strickland?”
She walked over a pulled a chair up to our table. “I have girls. He said the building that housed us unwed girls is long gone now, and that the records were moved to Mercy hospital in Atlanta. However, as we all concluded, they are sealed, but he said we could go to court and see if they could be unsealed. He cautioned me that this process might be long and there’s no guarantee that it would work. He did have another option however.”
I wasn’t feeling good about this. “What’s the other option Trixie?”
Trixie sighed. “He’s located two of the women I mentioned the other day. Abby Wainwright and Margaret Kreinhagen. They are both in a nursing home right outside the Atlanta area. Mr. Strickland wants to talk to them as he thinks they may remember names and dates, but I have my reservations.”
“Because of how long it’s been?” Paige asked.
Trixie nodded. “Even if Abby has her wits about her, it would be asking a lot for her to remember names and dates. Although is wasn’t like there were many of us girls there at the time. There were about ten of us when I was there.”
Stormi got up to toss her cup in the trash. “Trixie, that doesn’t sound like too many. Maybe she would remember. It’s worth a shot don’t you think?”
“Yes I do think it’s worth a shot. Besides, I would love to see Miss Abby. She was always a sweetheart. She wasn’t much older than us pregnant girls so we had a sort of kinship with her.”
I was waiting for someone to ask the inevitable and of course it was Paige.
“What about Margaret Kreinhagen?”
Instantly Trixie’s face drooped. Every time that woman’s name was mentioned it was like someone let the air out of Trix’s tire. Whoever this Margaret woman was, her wickedness lasted decades.
“If you can believe it, they’re in the same nursing home. Mr. Strickland said it’s a large mega nursing home facility so likely they don’t even see each other. He wasn’t sure what shape either one was in either so it may be a moot point.”
“Do you even want to see Miss Margaret?” I asked.
“No,” Trixie answered immediately. “I’ll let Strickland handle her…but I wouldn’t mind seeing Abby. She’ll likely talk more easily with me than she would with him being a stranger and all.”
“I’d be glad to go along if you want Trixie,” I said. Paige and Stormi volunteered as well.
“I hate dragging you girls all over the countryside…but it sure would be nice to have my reserves at the ready if I need them.” Trixie smiled sweetly and we assured her we’d like nothing better than to be there for her. The trip to Sunny Acres nursing home was set for the next day. We would set out in Paige’s SUV once again and meet Mr. Gabe Strickland there.
That night as I lied in bed I couldn’t sleep, wondering what or even if we’d find out anything for Trixie. I stared at the dark ceiling wondering what it must be like for Trixie to live a life of several tragedies. My heart hurt for her. I could only pray that she wouldn’t have to suffer another one.
*****
The drive to Sunny Acres nursing home facility took about an hour. We chit chatted on the way in Paige’s SUV, but the air was electric with anticipation and trepidation. Mr. Strickland was to meet us there. When we pulled into the parking lot he waved us down and Paige pulled into the slot next to his old Crown Victoria. We piled out of the SUV and followed Mr. Strickland to the front entrance. At the front desk he asked to see Abigail Wainwright and we were told she was last seen outside in the courtyard area.
This nursing home also had an assisted living space where seniors could live in what were more like apartments rather than rooms. These seniors could cook, leave on their own, and basically take care of themselves, but still have the security of a staff on hand in case they needed medical assistance. Abby lived in the assisted living area of the nursing home so it didn’t come as a surprise to hear she was roaming the grounds. The lady behind the desk showed us to the outside common area and where we might locate Abby.
Once out there we looked around the garden courtyard filled with walkways, manicured shrubs, and benches. Trixie spotted Abby right away. She was small and not very tall. She wore white pants with a dark purple top that made her white hair stand out like a halo around her head. And she wore the cutest pink tennis shoes. Her back was to us and Trixie walked up and softly said, “Abby?”
She turned around and we could see the soft porcelain skin and the bright green eyes. While there was some sagging of her facial skin, there were barely any wrinkles and you just knew her skin felt like a baby’s. She looked at Trixie and then the recognition bloomed across her face.
“Trixie,” she exclaimed and held out her arms. Trixie quickly went to her and they embraced. When they parted, Abby held onto Trixie’s arms.
“You look the same as I remember!”
Trixie laughed. “I know that isn’t true since I was a young woman of 20 back then.”
Abby leaned towards her. “But I can tell you still have that young spirit.”
Trixie motioned for us to come over. “I want you to meet my friends.”
Trixie introduced us all including Mr. Strickland. We decided to head into one of the common rooms within the facility where we could sit and talk. Mr. Strickland excused himself to make a phone call. I believe he was simply being gracious, allowing Trixie and Abby time to catch up and let the woman folk have their hen fest before getting down to business.
The two women chatted like they’d only seen each other yesterday. Funny how you can meet people who are significant in your life in one way or the other, not see them for years, but then pick up right where you left off. It must be a kinship of some kind and these two women had it.
Abby was only 8 years older than Trixie so there wasn’t much of an age difference between them. They talked about a few of the girls they remembered at the home and some of the shenanigans they pulled. Like the time one of the girls smuggled in her white pet mouse into the unwed girl’s home. It lived in her little suitcase for a few days until one morning her bunkmate opened it and the mouse ran out. High pitched screams and scrambling onto chairs and beds erupted through the home until one of the janitors cornered it. The girl begged the janitor not to kill it. He allowed her to catch it, but it had to go back home. But Abby said the nurses talked about the incident for years and laughed every time.
It was fun listening to the two of them reminisce and it brought about a relaxing atmosphere before getting down to the real reason we were here. After 30 minutes, Mr. Strickland walked back into the room and pulled up a chair.
Abby looked at Mr. Strickland and then back to Trixie. “I have a feeling you aren’t here just to talk about old times.”
Trixie nodded. “I do want to come back and visit with you Abby especially since we’ve had such a nice time pondering the past, but you’re right. I’m here on a quest. I didn’t think I could do it alone
so my friends here were kind enough to join me. You see, Mr. Strickland is a private investigator and he’s been commissioned to help me find my son.”
Abby’s face abruptly turned pale. The person we first met with the sweet smile and rose colored cheeks suddenly changed her demeanor. Her eyes were downcast and her back straightened. In a small voice she said, “I don’t think I can help you with that.”
Abby stood up. “I’m not feeling very well. I think I better head to my room and lie down.”
Trixie stood up as we all looked at one another. Mr. Strickland was the first to speak.
“Abigail, are you sure there is nothing you can tell us about Trixie’s son?”
Abby was already headed for the door and then she stopped and turned and looked at Trixie. Her face was stricken. “I’m sorry Trixie…but no.” With that she turned and fled out of the room.
Melted Memories: A Cozy Mystery (Caesars Creek Mystery Series Book 6) Page 2
