Reclaiming Katie

by Gardner, M. L.

  "You could get a part time job in town."

  She frowned deeper. Suddenly reentering society like that made her cringe. So many accusing eyes and tactless questions to answer.

  "I've thought about starting over somewhere new."

  Her mother's fork stopped midair. "What about Will?"

  "Well, I haven't quite figured that part out yet."

  "I hope you wouldn't go far. I'm not nearly finished spoiling that grandson of mine."

  Jacob slept on his mother's shoulder. Katie patted his back. "No, it wouldn't be far. But I had better see about finding a daycare for him."

  "Why on earth would you do that?"

  "Because Will and I are going to start working on the house. Jacob can't be around all that."

  "Nonsense. You'll leave him here with me."

  "I don't want to impose too much."

  She waved her hand and looked borderline angry by the statement. "My grandson is not an imposition. I'm here all day. Besides cooking and dusting and smuggling the Judge in and out the back door, what else to I have to do? Why wouldn't I keep after him?"

  "It would help," Katie relented. The old Katie would have argued against it for the sake of arguing. The new Katie accepted the help gratefully.

  "Speaking of smuggling the Judge, when are you going to have that big dinner?"

  "This Saturday. I was going to work on the menu tonight if you want to help. If you don't have other plans, that is."

  "No, Will is out of town till tomorrow afternoon."

  "Where'd he go?"

  Katie shrugged. "I don't know."

  "You didn't ask?"

  "Well, no. I didn't want to seem like I'm keeping tabs on him when we're only recently…together. If he wants me to know, he'll tell me."

  "Aren't you curious?"

  "Of course I'm curious. I'm going to lay Jacob down in his crib. I can't feel my arm."

  She rose carefully and left, thinking of just how curious she was about where Will went. She might not give it a second thought, if she hadn't grown tired of wondering where Tom was and when he'd be home. She realized she did know when Will would be back, at least. She decided it was an exercise in trust and tried to leave it alone. Surely he'd tell her when he got back.

  For Katie to say she wasn't counting down the hours until Will returned would be a lie. So she said nothing. Quiet and reflective during breakfast on Tuesday, she noticed the elephant holding the sign, "what now" returned, demanding an answer.

  "Damn elephant," she whispered.

  "What dear?"

  "Nothing. I'm going into town today to get my hair done. Would you watch Jacob?"

  Her mother's face lit up. "I'd love to. What are you going to do?"

  Katie shrugged and lifted a handful of her hair off her shoulders. "I'm not sure. Just something different."

  "You should look into that permanent make up, too. I hear it's great for busy moms."

  Katie wrinkled her nose. "I don't have the money for that."

  "At least get a facial or something. If you're going to treat yourself, you might as well go all out. You could get a pedicure or one of those body wraps."

  Choices, any choices, seemed to overwhelm Katie and she shook her head. "I'll just start with the hair."

  Her mother's face fell in apology. "It's just nice to see you taking care of yourself, Katie."

  "If I wanted to take care of myself I wouldn't eat the bacon, eggs and waffles you put on the table every morning."

  "You're starting to look healthy again."

  Katie looked herself over. It was true, she was no longer bone thin. Ten pounds had given her a healthy, womanly shape.

  "I just don't want to bypass healthy looking and head straight into double digit pants."

  Her mother scoffed. "I don't think you could if you tried."

  Katie swiped another piece of bacon off the pile. "Bet me." She grinned.

  She pulled into the parking lot of Haute Hair, a new salon opened by a woman from out of state. That's what the article in the paper said. She frowned wondering if she should trust anything the paper said these days.

  Stepping inside was like stepping inside another world. The high end salon, like something that would sit on Fifth Avenue, seemed terribly out of place in a small town like Cedar Hollow. She was met with a bright smile and led to a chair, where the pampering began.

  "Hello, I'm Andrew, the owner's assistant." She looked in the mirror at the man standing behind her. Something off of a GQ cover stared back at her. He clipped her hair up, caped her and let it fall again, admiring it. "What are we doing today?"

  "I…have no idea."

  "Would you like me to get you some books and a cup of tea while you decide?"

  "That would be nice, thank you." She couldn't resist watching him walk away.

  With a stack of hair modeling books on her lap, she sipped her tea and flipped through the pages. Choices…so many choices. With her teacup empty, she closed the book and sighed. Andrew returned with an expectant expression.

  "Have we decided on anything?"

  "No, I'm afraid I'm still lost."

  He eyed her critically. "Let's get you washed and then Erin will see to you. She's a master at clarifying the clueless."

  The washing area was spa like and Katie sank back into the plush chair. Andrew washed and then began a scalp massage that had Katie's limbs sprawled and limp by the end of it.

  "I could get used to that," she said as she sat up adjusting the towel on her head.

  "It's our signature treatment here. Some come in between trims simply for the massage."

  "I can see why."

  Seated in the chair with a fresh cup of tea, Andrew brought Erin over. "This is Katie. She is unsure of what she wants to do today."

  "Thank you, Andrew."

  Without saying anything to Katie, she began to inspect her hair. "You haven't done anything to it lately."

  "That's an understatement."

  "I meant damaging things. Color, perm, that sort of thing."

  "No. Literally, nothing."

  Erin spread her hair out across her back. "What sort of look are you going for, dear?"

  "Something…fresh. Different but not too different."

  "No drastic bobs or spikes? How disappointing," Erin teased. "We could have a lot of fun with all this hair."

  "No, please. Just…"

  "How about something soft and romantic. A few inches off the ends…layers…" She studied her face. "Longer bangs, definitely. Something that could go from business to candle lit dinner with a few strokes of a brush."

  "Sounds good," Katie said, taking a deep breath.

  Stepping out of the salon, Katie couldn't get the smile off her face. She felt something she hadn't felt in years. Pretty. No matter that Haute Salon charged Fifth Avenue prices, it was well worth it in Katie's opinion. She headed for the library even more excited to see Will.

  She sat down at a computer and stared at the screen. Pulling out the notebook and a small notepad, she typed in the name Samantha Emery. Nothing relative came up. She tried adding the address, Richard Emery and the last date on the journal.

  "I sure hope Will has better luck than me," she whispered.

  "I'll do my best." She turned quickly and he was smiling at her. She stood and wrapped her arms around him, without thinking of who might be watching. He squeezed her tight and then kissed her cheek. She pulled back, wanting desperately to kiss him but felt eyes on her.

  "Do you see why I wanted to pick you up?" he asked with a devilish grin. "So we could say hello properly." She sat down nearly pouting. "You look wonderful by the way." He touched her hair. "I love it."

  "Thank you," she said, blushing. Sitting so close to him was torture and she very much regretted not going with his original idea. Taking over the keyboard with his leg resting against hers, he began asking questions.

  "So, who are we looking for?"

  That smell. It was so distracting. He looked over at her
, waiting. Staring into those smoldering eyes surely didn't help matters. She cleared her throat and blinked.

  "Samantha Emery."

  "When was she born?"

  "No idea. This journal was written in 1905."

  "What else do you know about her?"

  "She lived in my house, she was married to Richard Emery at the time and he was an ancestor of my father's. But he's blotted out on the family tree."

  "Oh, a scandal."

  "Do you think?"

  "Why else would they blot it out?"

  Katie shrugged, trying not to watch his lips as he spoke.

  "Let's start here." He went to a genealogy site and started typing. "Were they newly married?"

  "A few years, I think. No kids."

  A few more keystrokes with a concentrated look and he sat back. "Bingo. Born July 1st 1880. Married Richard Emery in 1899. Her maiden name was Crawford."

  "Wow. How in the world did you do that?"

  "It's easy when you know where to look. C'mon, let's go."

  "That's it? We're leaving?"

  "No, we're doing down to the basement to look at the microfiche."

  He held out his hand. She hesitated. "I doubt holding hands will land us on the front page," he said.

  "Not now." He grinned and she gave him a curious look and then took it.

  "Let's take the elevator."

  "It's just the basement," she said, stopping the door to the stairs. "That's for handicapped people."

  He pushed the button and when the door opened, he swept his arm out for her to enter. It was a short ride down, but long enough for him to give her a deep and meaningful private kiss. Between that sensual cologne, his expert tongue and her newly revived self-esteem, the short kiss sparked a fire in the pit of her stomach that left her weak and tempted to hit the 'stop elevator' button. As he kissed her neck, she reached her hand out for the button. The elevator dinged, loud and tinny and the doors opened.

  "That's gonna make it a little hard to concentrate," he said, adjusting his shirt.

  She shook her head, grinning and stepped out into the basement of the library.

  Chapter 24

  Will scanned through roll after roll of microfiche, going so fast it all seemed a blur to Katie.

  "The newspaper was the Cedar Hollow Standard until around 1950. Then it changed to the Examiner."

  "Good to know. I would have searched the Examiner in vain."

  "They reported on all kinds of local stuff back then. Every birth, death, farm sale and engagement. If there is anything to be found out about Ms. Emery, we'll find it here."

  It seemed forever that he searched and Katie had drifted off into a daydream when suddenly he stopped.

  "Well, this is interesting." He zoomed in and focused.

  "What did you find?"

  "Apparently, Mr. Richard Emery committed suicide in May of 1905."

  "You’re kidding." She scrambled forward to get a closer look.

  "Hung himself in the outbuilding, according to this article."

  "There isn't an outbuilding. Do they mean the garage?" Katie's eyes went round. "He killed himself in my garage?"

  "If that building was renovated to function as a garage…looks like."

  Having gone white, she sat back in the chair hard.

  "But you don't believe in ghosts. So don't worry about it," he teased.

  "Does it say anything about Samantha?" Katie felt dread welling up inside her and prayed they wouldn't find out he killed her before he killed himself.

  "It says here in a footnote that Mrs. Emery went missing a week before."

  "Missing. Do you think he…"

  Will shrugged. "Is there anything in that journal that would lead you to believe he would?"

  She opened it to the last entry and handed it to him to read. His eyes narrowed as they ripped across the neat, feminine script.

  He sat back and rubbed his forehead. "Wow, that's intense. So, we know she got the journal in the fireplace, but did she get back out again?"

  "If she's buried at the house I'm never going back there again. I'll sell it as is."

  His lips twisted into a smile. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. If she went missing there has to be an article about that, too."

  He scanned, slower this time, until he found it.

  "Mr. Emery was found wandering in the late hours of the afternoon, sick, disheveled and calling his wife's name. He was combative when passersby tried to assist him but was finally restrained, taken back home and seen to by the local doctor. The police did a thorough search of his home but found no traces of Mrs. Emery. According to this article, he killed himself a week later."

  A shiver went up Katie's spine.

  "Did he go mad suddenly or was this a slow progression?"

  "Slow. Well, after he got back from his trip he went downhill pretty quickly. But he seemed normal before that, according to her entries."

  "Hmm." Will re-read the passage. "Whore's disease," he whispered. "What do you want to bet it was Syphilis."

  "Do you think?"

  "If he'd had it for a while, it could have gone to the brain. Outside of drugs, or a demonic possession, I can't think of anything else."

  "That would explain why she was barren, too."

  "It could."

  "So, we're at a dead end." Katie sighed.

  "Not necessarily. Now we start searching the archives for Samantha Crawford."

  They announced overhead that the library was closing in ten minutes.

  "No," Katie growled and glanced at her watch. It was nearly five.

  "I forgot they always close early on Tuesdays and Thursdays."

  "Have you looked anywhere else in the house? The attic or the basement?" He asked her as they walked to her car.

  "There isn't a basement. And I've never been in the attic." She wrinkled her nose. "I don't like spiders. Tom said there was just a bunch of junk up there when we moved in."

  "We should take a look."

  "I doubt we'd find anything that would lead us to Samantha Emery. This journal entry seems like the last thing she ever wrote."

  "You never know."

  "Well, I can tell you’re dying to get up in that attic, Will Anderson, so fine. Let's go."

  He grinned. "Or maybe I'm just trying to get you alone?" Her heart did a heavy thud and then beat quickly. "I'll see you at your place," he said, leaving her with a seductive glance.

  "No. No. No," Katie said as she pulled into her driveway. "You are not having sex with Will in the attic. I don't care how desperate you are, you'll wait for what you deserve."

  She looked at lovely side swept bangs in the rearview mirror. "And just what is it you think you deserve?" she asked herself.

  "Candles. Wine. Soft music." She glanced up at the round wooden gable vent of the attic. "At least a bed," she said. Though she's settle for a couch, deprived as she was.

  With a firm nod, she got out of the car and waited for Will. She tried not to look at the garage. The door was open a few inches. Damn thing never closed well and was always flying open with the least bit of wind. She had to consciously keep her imagination from running away. So he killed himself in there. "That doesn’t mean he was still hanging around." She shuttered at the bad pun. She'd lived here and nothing remotely spooky had happened, why should it start now? Minutes dragged waiting for Will. He seemed to be taking forever.

  Still, she smiled with relief when Will pulled his truck in behind her car. She couldn't resist hugging him one more time, but he dodged her effort.

  "What's wrong?"

  "I think someone was following me."

  "Who?"

  "Don't know. Someone in a black car with tinted windows."

  "I bet it's that damn Anna Stockard," Katie said with venom.

  "No, I don't think so."

  She scanned the horizon around the property.

  "I don't see anyone now."

  "I drove to my place first to throw them off. That's what took so lo
ng."

  "Do you want to do this another time?"

  "No." He put his hand on the small of her back, encouraging her on. "Let's go inside."

  In the hallway, an old chain hung from a spring loaded door leading to the attic. Missing the knob, Will twisted the chain around his fist and pulled hard. Billows of dust and cobwebs fell as the springs groaned and three sections of stairs fell into place.

  "Bleh!" Katie waved her hand around her face.

  "I’ll go first," Will said. "You know, to protect you from the spiders."

  "My hero," Katie said with a teasing look.

  He stopped and turned to her slowly. "You haven't seen anything yet." His eyes sparked with a mysterious secrecy and as Katie opened her mouth, he turned and began climbing the rickety stairs leading to the attic.

  She poked her head into the attic and didn't fully enter until Will found and turned on the light. Then she walked timidly behind him, glancing all around.

  "Be sure and stay on the planks," he pointed out. Every few feet, thick boards ran the length of the attic, with nothing but the exposed insulation. It was mostly empty, with a few boxes and random pieces of abandoned furniture in each corner except one, in which there were crates and oddly shaped things covered in sheets.

  Will pulled one of the sheets off and years of dust plumed, dancing in the rays of sun shining through the gable vent. It was a very old, free standing oval mirror, dark oak and cracked down the center. He carefully set it aside and pulled another sheet off of a chest of drawers that had to be over a hundred years old. He looked at her with one eye cocked.

  "A bunch of junk? These are genuine antiques."

  "Yeah, well…Tom was an idiot."

  She reached for a smaller box and opened it. "Oh, my gosh." Carefully, she lifted out a handful of pictures. Some were newer, black and white; from the forties and fifties, most likely. Others were so old she was afraid to touch them, as if they would crumble into dust at the slightest movement.

  Will peeked over her shoulder. "Do you recognize any of them?"

  "No, none," she said as she flipped through.

  Will pulled a hatbox that was wedged between a box and a chest. He held up a large ladies hat, white with purple plumes.

  "This would look good on you," he said and placed it on her head. "You look like you're ready to board the Titanic."