The Ruth Valley Missing

by Amber West

  He smiled, still holding the door open. “Yes it would. At least this one. So...” He nodded towards the doorway.

  “Right. Coffee.”

  I stepped inside, unsure of whether or not I should be relieved about the news that I was about to have coffee with the town Sheriff, particularly after being caught trespassing on his land.

  As we stepped in we were standing in the kitchen, a more modern one than I was expecting. The counters were dark granite, the cabinets deep mahogany, and the vintage red refrigerator matched the stove. Jack walked over to the coffee maker and filled two mugs.

  “How do you take yours?”

  “Black with lots of sugar, thanks.”

  I listened to the clinking of a spoon hitting the sides of both mugs before Jack turned away from the counter. He walked up, handed me a mug and pointed to a jacket hanging on the hook by the door. “It’s a chilly morning. Feel free to grab that if you like.”

  I was cold, but I wasn’t up for sharing a strange man’s clothes, so I stuck to holding my face close to the mug. “It’s ok. I’ll warm up on the run back.”

  He shrugged. “Suit yourself. Let’s go have a look at the house.”

  Across the yard we went, and I watched, surprised as he opened the house without unlocking it.

  The inside was simple; a small foyer with a coat closet, then a living room in the front and a kitchen in the back. It wasn’t nearly as fancy as the sheriff’s house, but was still a step up from my tiny studio in Brooklyn.

  “There’s a small bedroom right through here,” Jack said as he opened a door off the living room. “Not much space, I think the last gal used it for storage. The real bedroom is upstairs.”

  I followed him up a narrow stairway, leading to what looked like the entry to an attic. Before I could ask, he confirmed my guess.

  “Used to be an attic up here, but when I restored this place, I turned it into something more useful.”

  When we came off the stairs through the opening, I turned to look around. The wall facing the front of the house was mostly windows, and on the opposite side at the center of the slanted walls of the A frame stood a big oak four post bed. There was a cushioned bench along the window side, and not much else in the room.

  “This is nice.”

  “Yeah, not much in here, but it’s cozy I think. Oh, and the bathroom is through the door on that wall.”

  I walked over and opened the door to find a claw foot tub, a toilet, and a little vanity area. Small, but everything I needed. Jack continued talking as I made my way around the room.

  “I do all the handyman work on the property, just easier than paying someone to come do things I can do myself, so you can yell if you have problems with anything. Rent is due the 1st of every month and there’s room in the barn if you have a car you want to park. Assuming you want the place, that is.”

  I nodded enthusiastically.

  “Great, then. You can move in as soon as you like.”

  “Don’t you want me to sign something? A lease?”

  “Well, I wasn’t expecting you until this afternoon, and you did catch me when I was supposed to be heading out, so I don’t have anything for you just yet. Gentleman's handshake for now, and we can get the paperwork done in the next few days.”

  “So, I shake your hand right now, and you’re not going to turn around and promise this to some other guy coming to see the place later, right?”

  “No one else is coming to see this place. It’s yours.”

  “Emma over at the diner said you had a guy coming to look. That’s part of why I thought I would come see the place earlier than I planned.”

  “Oh, that guy.” Jack suppressed a grin. “Yeah, there was someone scheduled to come see the place this afternoon. James Quinn.”

  I scrunched up my nose. “Oh. I see.”

  Jack started to laugh. “I should have let you sit here and outbid yourself.”

  I rolled my eyes, but smiled. “I would have figured it out eventually.”

  He started to head down the stairs and called up behind him. “Of course you would. Feel free to stay and check the place out as long as you like. I have to get going.”

  “Thanks!” I yelled and plopped down on the window seat. I watched him walk back up to the house and looked around. With a few touches, this would make for a nice place. And having the Sheriff nearby couldn’t hurt.

  I took a deep breath, realizing that this was my new home. At least for a while.

  Chapter 7

  I stumbled into the B&B, my arms weighed down with bags. I’d spent my entire Saturday morning shopping for essentials and a few extras; new linens for the bed, towels, and a gorgeous handmade throw for the couch downstairs. I was hoping to start moving in on Sunday, and planned out everything I was going to need to make that happen.

  “Look at you, hon! When you asked about shopping this morning, I had no idea you were going to clean out the town.”

  Maria, the innkeeper’s wife, came over to help me with a few bags. She and I chatted over breakfast about all the shops in town where I could find what I needed. I managed to find most of what I wanted with her advice.

  “Looks like you spent a small fortune.”

  “It wasn’t that bad.”

  That was the truth. While I probably could have driven an hour to a town with a one-stop retail shop with everything I needed and spent far less, for “boutique” shops, the stuff wasn’t too expensive.

  Maria ran her fingers across a hand knit blanket in one of the bags. “Camille does amazing work, doesn’t she?”

  “She does. I couldn’t believe everything in that shop was handmade.”

  “And not just her. She features pieces by women in her knitting circle. The ones that are good enough.”

  “Amazing. I have zero talent when it comes to that sort of thing.”

  Maria followed me up the stairs with a couple of my bags in hand.

  “God gives us all different gifts, sweetie. No use comparing.”

  I smiled and set my bags down as I jiggled the old key in the lock.

  “Sorry about the old key. Most people don’t even bother locking up when they stay here.”

  “Old habits die hard. I keep searching for the deadbolt when I get in.”

  Maria laughed hard. “Deadbolt? I don’t think there is a house in this town that has one.”

  I took my bags from Maria, and slid the ones on the floor into the room.

  “Yeah, I’ve noticed. Seems like things are pretty calm here.”

  “Oh yes. It’s a very close community here. Can’t do much here without it being noticed. Keeps everyone safe.”

  Once all the bags were in the room, I closed the door, this time, without locking it.

  “Heading out?” Maria stood between me and the stairs, clutching her apron.

  “In a few. I still need to sign papers for the house I’m renting, and get some groceries.”

  “Would you like to sit and have some tea before you go?”

  The look on Maria’s face was a hopeful one. She seemed excited at the prospect of having someone to sit and chat with over tea. It was a bit chilly outside, so it didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

  “That sounds great.”

  I followed her downstairs and had a seat in the kitschy sitting room, Elvis and Shirley Temple staring down at me from collectible plates.

  “I’m just going to pop into the kitchen and grab us some tea. Cookies or scones?”

  “Scones, please.”

  As I waited, I thought about how smoothly everything was going. Within less than a few days, I’d found lodging, with a sheriff for a landlord, found most of what I needed in town, and already spotted several spots that I wanted to explore with my camera. More than anything, I was starting to feel somewhat relaxed, a feeling I hadn’t had in, well, years.

  “I made Earl Grey.”

  Maria walked out with a little blue and white pot on a tray with a creamer and a pot of sugar cubes. Next t
o the sugar were scones, still warm from the oven.

  “So you’re renting the house behind Jack?”

  “Yeah. Did I mention that earlier?”

  “No, but word spreads like fire in this town.”

  Word barely spread through my old apartment building. Even if there was an actual fire.

  “So, what’s Jack like?”

  “Oh, he’s a sweetheart. Takes good care of the town. Everyone adores that man.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yup. I mean, we don’t get much mischief around here, but if there’s even a whiff of it, he has it taken care of.”

  I sipped my tea, listening, happy to hear my soon to be landlord had such a favorable reputation. Maria leaned in to grab a scone, looked around as if someone was listening, then spoke in a hushed voice, “He’s not too bad on the eyes, either.”

  She patted my hand, her eyebrows raised before grabbing a scone and leaning back in her chair. I smiled and nibbled on a scone to avoid comment. She was right. He was very handsome, but that wasn’t something I wanted to dwell on at the moment, so I changed the subject.

  “So, I’ll probably be checking out tomorrow morning. I was planning on getting myself moved in first thing.”

  “On a Sunday morning? You’ll miss Mass.”

  “Oh.” The sudden change in Maria’s friendly demeanor, her stiffened posture and pulled-together brow told me I shouldn’t mention that I hadn’t been to Mass, or any other church service for that matter, in ages. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

  “Obviously. Mass is at ten.”

  “It’s been a crazy week. I guess the days just started to blend together.” I let out an awkward laugh. That, and my agreement to be in church the next day seemed to return her to her normally cheerful mood.

  My Sunday plans were suddenly much fuller than I had counted on.

  Chapter 8

  I walked into the church minutes before it was going to start. I was hoping to slide into a back pew unnoticed and zip out just as quickly when it ended. I had originally planned out my whole day, including groceries and some more shopping, ending in the window seat of my new bedroom with a cup of tea and a book. Mass was putting a significant cramp in those plans.

  As I walked in, I was shocked to see the pews full, including the ones in the back. In all my days of attending Mass as a child, our church was half full on a good day, and the pews at the back were even empty for holiday services.

  Everyone in town must be here, I thought. I stood on my toes trying to scope out an empty spot somewhere close by when I felt a nudge.

  I looked over my shoulder to find Jack standing there. “There’s a spot up there.”

  I followed where he was pointing. There was the empty spot. Three rows from the front. I looked at Jack and grimaced. He grinned, “You’re lucky. Someone must be sick. And maybe next week you’ll be on time.”

  “I am on time—”

  “You won’t be if you don’t get up to your seat instead of standing here talking to me.”

  He was right. The walk to the front was a long one and I’d be lucky if I had 30 seconds before Mass began. I turned back to Jack once more with a pout, fighting the temptation to stomp my foot like a child. He rolled his eyes and leaned in, “Or you can have my seat over there.”

  He pointed to the end of a pew a few rows from the back. I gave him a grateful smile, and mouthed ‘thanks’ as I stepped quickly over to my seat. I sat down, receiving a few frowns of disapproval from my fellow pew occupiers. I had obviously forgotten to do something, but years had erased the order of things from my mind. I didn’t have much time to think about it before everyone was standing again.

  And singing.

  With so many people, I figured my voice wouldn’t be missed, so long as I edged away from the woman next to me and moved my mouth. When the hymn ended and the priest began, I found myself trying to fake my way through various back and forth. My childhood memories had betrayed me, as I didn’t remember Mass being so interactive.

  I was beginning to get the rhythm of response, starting to feel slightly less uncomfortable, when I felt the pew vibrate. And ring.

  I shut my eyes and held my breath, silently cursing whoever was on the other end of the call trapped in the deep pocket of my skirt. Sitting there, I couldn’t get my hand far enough in the pocket to shut the phone off. I wouldn’t look up, since I knew there must be a hundred eyes searching for the source of the sound, and I could hear that the priest ceased from whatever he was reciting.

  I hopped up and headed for the door, catching a few dirty looks on the way out.

  I wrangled the phone from my pocket as I was halfway down the steps and was at the bottom as I answered the call.

  “Jameson, where are you?”

  It was Dylan’s voice. Now I was cursing myself for rushing to answer without seeing who it was.

  “What?”

  “Where are you? I’m standing in front of your door. You’re always home on Sunday morning.”

  “I don’t live there anymore.”

  “What?! Don’t you think that’s something you should’ve told me?”

  “Not particularly.”

  He was silent for a moment. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  I rubbed my forehead and sighed before answering. “We’re not together anymore, Dylan. Remember? I broke up with you.”

  “No, I remember you being in one of your moods and telling me to leave.”

  “One of my moods?” There was a slight quiver in my voice. I didn’t let my anger show often, but when it started to rise, it was difficult to disguise.

  “You are so dramatic I mean, seriously, you got mad at me and moved? Probably to an apartment with more ‘character’.”

  Dylan spat out that last word. He never liked my old apartment, but I adored it. It had its issues, but it was old and had history. It wasn’t like his spacious high rise loft, all straight lines, black and white and impersonal.

  “This is why we aren’t together Dylan. You think everything is about you. I didn’t move because of you, I moved for me. If you had shown as much interest in me as you do in, I don’t know, your hair, you might understand why I left.”

  “Well, whatever. I can’t find my wingtips, and figured I left them at your place. Did you happen to see them when you were packing?”

  “Unbelievable. Don’t call me again, Dylan.”

  I ended the call, deleted him from my contacts, and sat at the bottom of the church steps, hitting myself in the head with my phone trying to figure out how I let myself date him for so long.

  “While a ringing phone in church is a major faux pas, I don’t think you should be beating yourself in the head over it.”

  I looked up to see Jack standing there.

  “Not my finest hour.”

  “At least you weren’t sitting in the front.”

  He flashed me a big grin, and I couldn’t help but reciprocate. “This is true. Thanks to you.”

  “Don’t mention it. Everything alright?”

  “Yeah, just...personal stuff.”

  “Man troubles. Got it. Well, I’m gonna get back in there. You should, too. Don’t want the town thinking you’re inconsiderate and a heathen.”

  He winked before heading up the steps. I stood, smoothed my skirt, and started to head back in. I paused outside of the enormous, dark, wooden doors, shutting my phone off before sliding it into my pocket and stepping inside.

  Chapter 9

  I managed to get the necessities I wanted Sunday afternoon, and all the luggage I brought with me into the house by the end of the evening, so I was spending my Monday morning cleaning, unpacking, and organizing. I could barely hear the voice yelling up the stairs over the music blaring while I worked, but was expecting Jack to come by with the paperwork, so I turned down my stereo and yelled back.

  “Come on up!”

  As I smoothed the new bedding over the mattress, I looked up to see a man and woman.

  No
t Jack.

  “Are you looking for the Sheriff?”

  The woman, wearing dark slacks with a shirt and cardigan to match spoke first.

  “No, Miss Quinn, we came to see you.”

  She let the statement hang there, as she stood glancing about the room, her face expressionless.

  “Is there something wrong?”

  The man, whose black and white collar I now noticed, spoke up. “No, not at all. We just came around to meet you. We do that with any new members of the town. I’m Father Michael and this is Sister Marjorie.”

  He extended his hand as he introduced himself. I shook it, then turned towards Sister Marjorie, who merely nodded in my direction.

  “We just like to be sure that anyone new here feels welcome and a part of the community.”

  “Well, that’s very nice. Word travels fast I guess.”

  “Yes,” said Father Michael, stifling a grin. “That, and you have a very loud phone.”

  I tried to ignore the flush I felt in my face. “Must be nice to have a small town where you visit all the newcomers.”

  My comment did not seem to please the nun. “I take it you aren’t from a small town then?”

  “No. I just moved from New York. I grew up in a smaller city, but nothing like this.” I quickly added, “I think it’s lovely here.”

  Father Michael opened his mouth, as if he was about to speak, but Marjorie beat him to it. “It is lovely here. That is due in no small part to everyone’s involvement. Do you have any interests that could be of assistance to the town?”

  Although I found her question to be rather pushy, particularly when it was obvious that I was barely settled yet, I answered politely.

  “I used to volunteer with the hospital in the city actually. I’d be happy to help in any way I can.”

  “That is excellent to hear,” Father Michael jumped in, with a much kinder tone.

  “Here.” Sister Marjorie handed me an envelope. “Fill this out and drop it by the church this week. We can find a place for you to help once we have a better idea of your talents.”

  I accepted the envelope with a forced smile.

  The three of us stood in awkward silence. When I couldn’t handle it any longer, I spoke up.