Once Upon Forever

by Becky Lee Weyrich

  When she opened the door, two men rose to greet her—the tall, muscular ranger, Sonny Taylor, and the short, barrel-chested sheriff, Clewis Elrod.

  “Sheriff, this is Miss Jackson,” Taylor said. “She’s the one from up at the falls last night.”

  “Howdy, ma’am.” Sheriff Elrod touched the brim of his hat without removing it. “Thanks for coming down here so quick. It appears we’re going to need your help.”

  He motioned toward a beat-up folding chair. B.J. sat down, gripping her purse in her lap, nervous and feeling oddly guilty simply because she was at the jail.

  “I don’t know what help I can be,” she said. “I just don’t understand why you can’t find my friend. I mean, she was right there with me, then she was gone in the blink of an eye. She must have slipped over the railing. There was nowhere else for her to go. She got to the overlook before I did. I was still on the stairs, and those stone steps are the only way off the overlook except straight down.”

  “If she’d fallen over the railing,” Sonny Taylor said, “we’d have found her right off. You see, ma’am, the water’s real shallow down below there. She’d of hit the rocks right beneath the water’s surface and been hurt real bad, if she wasn’t killed outright.”

  “Oh, no!” B.J. cried, visualizing Cluney lying sprawled and still on the boulders.

  “You said you saw a light last night, Miss Jackson?” the sheriff asked.

  B.J. nodded. “Yes. It was real bright, almost blinding.”

  The two men exchanged glances. “Sounds like a hunter’s searchlight to me,” the sheriff said. “Did you hear any shots fired, ma’am?”

  B.J. shook her head. They were definitely on the wrong track. “What I saw wasn’t any searchlight, Sheriff Elrod. This was like no light I’ve ever seen before. Eerie—silvery—with colors sort of shimmering through it.”

  The ranger gave a nervous laugh. “Sounds like the moonbow.”

  “Yes! I think it was,” B.J. agreed excitedly. “In fact, I’m sure of it.”

  Sheriff Elrod shoved his hat back on his head and let out the type of sigh he reserved for liars, fools, and crazy people. “Well, little lady, if you’re telling me the moon-bow swooped down and carried your friend off, I’m afraid there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. No, ma’am, that dog just don’t hunt!”

  B.J. bristled. Who did this character think he was, calling her “little lady?” And she never claimed nor believed that Cluney had been kidnapped by the moonbow.

  “All I know is that my friend was there before I saw the light, then gone after it appeared.”

  “Didn’t you say she meant to leave for California today?” the ranger asked in a cautious voice, fully aware of B.J.’s rising anger.

  “Well, there you are!” the sheriff said, as if dismissing the entire matter. “That gal just decided to take off last night instead of waiting till daylight. And we done wasted all this time, manpower, and taxpayers’ money searching for her.”

  B.J. jumped to her feet, furious. “Do you think she’s going to walk all the way to California, Sheriff? She left her van in the parking lot at the falls. She left all her clothes, all her belongings. Does that sound like someone who took off across country in the middle of the night?”

  The sheriff shrugged, unperturbed by B.J.’s outburst. “Shoot, I know how you young people nowadays live. She’s probably off in the woods somewhere, shacked up with her boyfriend. I figure you’ve wasted enough of my time on this gall-durned foolishness. If we find a body up around the falls, I’ll get in touch with you. Otherwise, I don’t see as there’s much more I can do. Why, it’s too early yet even to file a missing person’s report.”

  “Well, a good day to you, too, Sheriff!” B.J. snapped, jumping up from the chair. She was so mad she could hardly get the words out. If they didn’t want to help, she’d find Cluney herself. She headed out the door and slammed it behind her.

  “Miss Jackson, hold on a minute,” Sonny Taylor called after her. “I need to talk to you.”

  B.J. was already in her car. She put the key in the ignition and cranked it, but left it in park. “I think we’ve about said all there is to say.”

  “No, ma’am, we haven’t. It’s about the falls and some strange things I’ve seen up there from time to time.”

  His words piqued B.J.’s interest. “What sort of things?”

  He seemed embarrassed suddenly. “Well, you know … We get all sorts of lunatics up to the falls on nights of the full moon. I never know what’s coming next. We’ve had so many jumpers lately that when I see some guy climbing over the rope I just tell him I’d appreciate if he’d commit suicide on somebody else’s shift.”

  B.J. bristled. “If you’re suggesting that my friend killed herself, you can forget it.”

  “No, I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.” He blushed under his tan, before continuing in a hesitant voice. “I’m just trying to explain about the moonbow and all the weird stuff that goes along with it. There’s the ‘moonies,’ as we call them, the religious cult folks that come out in their long robes, beating drums and chanting all night. It’d make your skin crawl to hear their racket.”

  “What’s all this got to do with Cluney?”

  The tall ranger glanced about to make sure no one was listening before he resumed in a whisper, “Nights when there’s nobody but me up there to see the moonbow, that’s when the oddest things happen.”

  “Such as?”

  “I’ve seen the bride,” he answered. “And I’ve seen faces staring back at me from the falls—faces that were there one minute, then gone the next. And there’s an old man who comes and goes.”

  “Comes and goes?” B.J. repeated. “What do you mean? Is he real or only a vision like the bride?”

  Ranger Taylor shook his head. “You got me, there,” he answered. “I’m not from around these parts. I’ve been here only since early last year, so I don’t know everybody hereabouts. Seems like I’ve seen this little old guy in town a time or two, but then again, I can’t be sure he’s the one from the falls.”

  “How often do you see him at the falls?”

  “If there’s even a hint of a moonbow, he’s there. There and then gone. I’ll catch sight of him moving around at the edge of the cliff and the next thing I know, he’s vanished.”

  “Vanished?” B.J. repeated. “Like into thin air?”

  Taylor nodded solemnly. “You got it, ma’am. Like smoke blown away in the wind. Like your friend vanished.”

  A shiver went through B.J. even though she was sweating inside her heavy sweater.

  “So are you saying that you think wherever this man goes is where we’ll find Cluney?”

  “I’m not saying that, ma’am. I just wanted you to know that your friend’s not the only one to disappear out there, and that she could come back next moonbow just like he does.”

  “Have you told Sheriff Elrod about this?”

  “Hell, no!” Taylor said, his horror at the thought evident in his voice. “He’d most likely slap me in jail for drinking on the job if I told him such a tale. He’d never believe a word of it. I’d be a laughingstock or worse.”

  B.J. chewed at her bottom lip, deep in thought. “Yes. I can see why you’d be reluctant to talk about these visions.” She looked back up at the lanky ranger. “But what if this disappearing man is real? You said you thought you’d seen him in town. I know everybody around here. What does this guy look like?”

  Taylor rubbed a hand over his eyes, trying to envision the fellow. “Well, he’s short—under five feet, I’d say. And I know he’s got a beard, and he walks kind of funny—side to side like he’s real bowlegged. And he’s always dressed in baggy overalls. That’s about all I can tell you.”

  B.J. grinned. “Thanks! That’s enough. I think your man is flesh and blood. I think I even know where he lives. I’ll be in touch.”

  Before the ranger could say another word, B.J. shoved the gearshift into
drive and stepped on the gas. Her tires sprayed loose gravel in all directions as she wheeled out of the parking lot.

  It was high time she paid Wooter Crenshaw a visit. If he was, indeed, the little man who disappeared then reappeared at the falls with the moonbow, she had quite a few questions he might be able to answer.

  B.J. had never met Wooter personally, but she’d heard Cluney talk about him so much that she felt like she knew him. It seemed he’d been around Baldy Rock forever and knew everyone who’d ever lived in these parts. He also knew everybody’s business and their coffin size. B.J. gave a shudder at the thought. That was one reason she’d never gone with Cluney to visit the old geezer. She was afraid he’d try to measure her.

  “No thanks!” she muttered. “When my time comes, I’ll take cremation and sprinkling. Give me wide, open spaces!”

  As she turned onto the rough mountain road that led up toward Wooter’s cabin, she remembered something Cluney had told her about his sign. “If it’s not propped up against the fence post, Wooter’s not home. He goes off sometimes; nobody knows where.”

  B.J. almost hoped his sign was gone. How was she supposed to explain to him what she wanted without sounding perfectly insane?

  “Hey, ole Wooter, I know you don’t know me from Adam’s house cat, but I hear you disappear occasionally and I’d like to know how you do it and where you go.”

  B.J. laughed humorously and shook her head. “Sure! Wonderful approach, girl!”

  She stopped trying to figure it out so she could concentrate on the rutted road. Maybe something would come to her when she saw him.

  Wooter’s sign came into view. There was no turning back now. B.J. wheeled into the lane and slowed as a pack of dogs and one yapping cat charged toward her car. Sitting beside the drive were two raccoons who seemed to consider themselves above all the noise and excitement. B.J. grinned. “That’ll be Ma and Pa Crenshaw, of course.”

  Just then, B.J. saw the gnomelike coffin-maker come around the side of the cabin. He stopped dead in his tracks and stared hard at the unfamiliar yellow compact car in his drive. Since he was holding a shotgun in his hands, B.J. decided her best course of action was to cut the motor, then get out slowly—very slowly.

  She did just that, but Wooter never moved. He wasn’t aiming his gun at her but, to B.J.’s way of thinking, it posed a threat nonetheless.

  “Hello!” she called.

  No answer. Not a muscle moved.

  “Are you Wooter Crenshaw?”

  At length, he called back, “May be. Who wants to know?”

  “I’m B.J. Jackson—a friend of Cluney Summerland’s.”

  B.J. was aware of the pair of raccoons sniffing around her boots, but she tried to ignore them.

  “She ain’t here!” Wooter yelled back.

  “I didn’t think she was, but I thought you might have some idea where I can find her. I know she came to visit you yesterday.”

  A sharp claw reached up and pawed at B.J.’s hand—the one holding her purse. “Get away!” she snapped.

  “Here now! You got no cause to speak harsh to her. That ain’t no way to treat my ma,” Wooter growled. “She’s just hankerin’ for a treat. You got anything to eat in that there bag? Best give her something—my pa, too.”

  B.J. fished into her purse and found some sticky, lint-covered peppermints. She scattered several on the ground and watched as the two raccoons gathered up the candies, then ambled over to wash their feast.

  Wooter propped his gun against the cabin steps. “That’s better,” he said. “Now, what’s this about that little Summerland girl?”

  B.J. quickly filled him in on what she knew of the night before. He stroked his long beard as he listened, nodding his head from time to time.

  “Well, that’s about all we know,” she finished. “Cluney told me that you said she shouldn’t go up to the falls last night, so I figured you might have some idea what happened to her.”

  “Tarnation and gall-durn!” he sputtered. “She ought to know to listen to me instead of letting old Redbird fill her head full of crazy notions.”

  “Do you think Miss Redbird knows where she is?” B.J. asked hopefully.

  “I reckon me and Redbird both know, but that don’t mean we’re gonna tell no strangers.”

  “But I’m not a stranger,” B.J. pleaded. “I’m Cluney’s best friend. I have to find her. Please, won’t you help me?”

  Wooter’s shaggy brows drew together over his beak of a nose. He kept pulling at his beard and making a grumbling noise deep in his throat. When he finally looked at B.J., his eyes were dark and glittering.

  “Just ’cause I know where she’s at don’t mean I can do nothing about it. I ’spose I could go there myself, though, and make sure she’s all right.”

  “But where is she?” B.J. demanded.

  “You wouldn’t understand was I to try and explain it to you.”

  “Is it far way?”

  He squinted hard at her. “Farther than you might figure.”

  “Then how’d she get there without her van?” B.J. persisted.

  “Wheels ain’t the only way to travel, you know. Time I was going now.”

  “Can I go with you?” B.J. asked excitedly.

  He snorted and gave her a look of disgust. “Hell, no, you can’t go with me! You don’t go to this here place ’less you been called for a reason.” He gave her a cool look, up and down. “And you can take my word for it, you wouldn’t like it there no way, you being of the darker persuasion.”

  B.J. bristled, but she could tell the old man meant no offense. Still, she wondered at his words. None of what he said made much sense. She realized, totally frustrated, that she still had no idea where Cluney was.

  “How soon can you get to her and bring her back?” B.J. asked.

  Wooter shaded his eyes with one hand and squinted up at the sky. “Depends,” he answered.

  “On what?” By now, B.J. was truly exasperated.

  He pointed off to the west. “See them clouds? If the mountains keep them at bay, could be the moonbow’ll show itself again tonight. But if things get overcast, won’t be no use trying till next full of the moon.”

  “Oh, no!” B.J. cried. “That’ll be nearly a month from now. Why, anything could happen to her. You just tell me how to find her and I’ll go right now.”

  Wooter shook his head and made his growling noise again. “I done told you, girl. You can’t go and that’s that! Now, you just run along home and leave this to me.”

  Refusing to be put off so easily, B.J. suggested, “Maybe Miss Redbird could help.”

  “You best leave her out of this,” Wooter raged. “Ain’t she done stirred up enough trouble already? I’m so mad at her right now that I’m thinking of trimming her coffin a inch all around, so it’ll squeeze her too tight all through eternity. I tell you, she’s nothing but a meddling old busybody. She had no cause to tell that little Summerland girl the secret. Now, you get on outta here and leave me be. I got some tall thinking to do.”

  When Wooter reached for his shotgun, B.J. needed no farther inspiration to get her moving. She was in her car and peeling rubber in seconds, without even a “by-your-leave” to Ma and Pa Crenshaw.

  But she didn’t go home. Instead, she headed up to Cumberland Falls again. Maybe Sheriff Elrod and his men had given up the search, but B.J. still felt sure that she could find some clue to Cluney’s whereabouts if she went back to the very spot where the two of them had been the night before.

  An hour later, B.J. pulled into the parking area beside the falls and got out of her bright yellow car. The sun felt warm on her face and the spring air was like subtle perfume. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes.

  “Oh, Cluney, I wish you were here,” she murmured. “It’s one of those soft, perfect afternoons—the kind you love.”

  Of course, B.J. had no way of knowing it, but Cluney Summerland was there—only a short distance away, may
be fifty or sixty yards. Even if B.J. had gone to the very spot where her friend was, however, she wouldn’t have seen her. Cluney hadn’t traveled the distance in miles, but in time. As Wooter had said, it was “farther than you might figure.” One hundred and twenty-nine years farther, to be exact.

  B.J. headed toward the stone stairway that she and Cluney had taken the night before. She heard the birds singing, the wind sighing in the trees, and the roar of the falls, but there was no way that any human ear in the year 1992 could hear what was going on only a short distance away, up the hill and beyond the copse of trees. Nor could B.J. have seen her friend. But Cluney was there all right!

  “Has he settled down any?” Mary Renfro asked quietly as she passed the open bedroom door.

  “Yes,” Cluney answered. “The major’s sleeping peacefully.”

  Mary nodded, but Cluney noticed the grim look on her thin face.

  “That’s the way of it,” the woman whispered. “Dying takes a lot of energy—as much as being born. So a body needs to sleep a good bit right before—restin’ up to pass over.”

  “No!” Cluney gasped. “It’s the medicine you gave him that’s making him sleep.”

  Mary merely nodded, then went on about her work.

  Sitting beside Hunter Breckinridge, still holding his hand, Cluney tried not to think about what Mary had said. Hunter couldn’t die; it wasn’t fair. But then Jeff Layton had died, hadn’t he? Jeff, who had been so young and full of life, who had seemed invincible. Jeff, who had meant everything to Cluney, who had been her whole world.

  Her emotions in turmoil, Cluney couldn’t hold back her tears. She couldn’t imagine how she had come to this place, but surely she was here because Hunter Breckinridge needed her. Or, perhaps, she thought suddenly, she was here because she needed him.

  Her thoughts drifting, her senses dulled by the stillness of the late afternoon, Cluney nodded off sitting up in her chair.