Rise of the White Lotus

by H L Stephens

  "Thank you, Vernon," she said. "I can't imagine why they sent it to you."

  "I wondered the same thing, but there it is, plain as day," he said pointing at the address. "It has your name on it but the address of my store. Must think the town is so small, we only have one address."

  Mr. Saunders was so pleased with his wit, he started laughing, and once he got to laughing, he could hardly stop. Irene just smiled. She was too busy examining everything about the package. Every little detail. The more she studied it, the more her heart began to race.

  "Vernon, if you will excuse me, I just remembered I have something I need to do," she said as she rose from her chair. Her face was white as fresh cream.

  Irene hated to shoo the old man off, but she needed time and privacy. It would not do to have gossipy, prying eyes watching her every move.

  "Certainly, I understand," Mr. Saunders said. "I best get back to the store myself. Iggie is minding it today. No telling what mischief the boy will come to without me there. Thanks for the lemonade."

  Irene gave a halfhearted wave as she entered the house. She peeked out the gauzy curtains at the old man as he meandered his way off the porch. As soon as Mr. Saunders was a safe distance down the dusty drive, she charged out the door and ran to the barn where Julian was burying his broken heart under the hood of Charlene.

  "Julian," Irene yelled. She heard a loud thump followed by a stream of expletives that only her husband could weave together with such eloquence.

  "Good god, woman," he said coming out from around the front of the car, rubbing his head with a furious vigor. "There ain't no insurance money, so scaring the life out of me isn't going to get you far."

  Irene might have laughed at any other time, but she was too near to tears to do more than motion for her husband to come to her. He knew something was wrong. He could read it in every line on her usually smooth features. Whatever else he might have said was lost in concern.

  He ran over and said, "Whatever is the matter?"

  Irene gave him a significant look, as she said, "I think the oak tree's come to mischief."

  Julian had known Irene since they were children, and he had seen her go through some interesting phases like the time she came running into the house during the dead of winter declaring the pheasants were starving, which translated to him at four o'clock in the morning, "Get your ass out of bed and grab the seed. We're gonna go feed some cold ass birds." He loved the idiosyncrasies that made Irene tick, and he found himself looking forward to the next big one, but an oak tree coming to mischief was a new one for him.

  "What?" was all that Julian could manage to say.

  Irene began waving her arms and jerking her head to the side like she had a bad case of colic and needed him to commence swarping her on the back. Then he thought she was going epileptic and wondered if he should knock her to the ground, sit on top of her, and put a piece of wood between her teeth for her own safety.

  When Irene saw the look of confusion on her husband's face, she got impatient and said, "Oh for heaven's sake, Julian, I said the oak tree has come to mischief. Get your ass outside."

  Irene stormed out of the barn which was a pretty good signal she expected him to follow. As soon as Julian had cleared the barn door, Irene grabbed his wrist and had him hurtling at neck-breaking speeds toward the oak tree.

  "What is going on, Irene," Julian demanded.

  "I'll tell you at the oak," Irene said saving her breath for the run.

  The oak tree was at the very edge of their property and as far away from any of the buildings as the two of them could get. When they reached the trunk of the tree, Irene showed Julian the package.

  "What is it?" he panted.

  "I don't know, but I think Jane sent it," she said and burst into tears.

  Julian reached out and folded his wife into his arms. They both were at the end of a rotting frayed rope, holding on for dear life for any spark of hope.

  "Why do you think it's from her?" he asked gently when the sobs began to die down. "You haven't even opened it yet."

  "Look," Irene said, holding up the package. "It came from New York. The handwriting looks just like Jane's. I didn't want to open it without you, but I didn't think it was safe to do it in the house or in the barn. I think FBI bugged us when they were here tearing the house apart."

  "Me too," Julian said, turning the package over in his hands. "Well, let's get this baby open and see what Jane sent."

  They sat down in the grass and tore into the paper. A beautiful copy of Wildflowers of New England presented itself as the paper fell away.

  "The book is beautiful, I'll say that," Julian commented.

  Irene opened the cover with great care.

  "There's an inscription," Irene said. Her hands were trembling. "Jules, it is written in pencil, but it is definitely Jane's handwriting."

  "What does it say?" Julian asked, leaning in.

  Hello my love,

  Words cannot express how much I miss you. It feels as though we have been ripped apart. It is uncertain when we shall see each other again, but you are never far from my heart. The weather is fine. Cherokee summer here, though it is always springtime when I think of you. Marked your favorite flower.

  All my love,

  Salal 1918

  "There's a bookmark on the page for buttercup," Irene exclaimed. "Jules, I always called her my little buttercup. And the message. Cherokee summer. Salal. 1918."

  "But what does it mean?" Julian asked.

  "I told Jane about an ancestor of mine once. He was a code talker back in World War I. The Cherokee language was part of the unbreakable code that helped win the Second Battle of the Somme of 1918. My ancestor's name was Salal. It means squirrel in Cherokee."

  Irene examined the book which now was the most precious thing she owned.

  "What do we do, Julian?"

  "We sure as heck don't tell the FBI about it," he said. "They have already proven themselves untrustworthy. But we can't just stand around and do nothing." Julian looked intently into Irene's eyes. "A father....a real father.....doesn't abandon his child. Not for one second. Not when he has a place to start looking. Now, the way I see it is like this. We got an address off the package to start with. Jane did that on purpose. We also have a name."

  "We do?" Irene asked.

  "Yep," Julian said. "Our girl's a smart one." Julian held up the bookmark and flipped it so Irene could see the back. The name Henry was written in pencil in the same hand as the book's inscription. "I figure I can start packing up a few things and drive out there. You can maybe have Candy Rose come stay with you while I am gone. She may not be the brightest bulb in the box, but the girl comes from survivalist stock and she is a crack shot with a gun. I'll go to New York and see if I can find our girl."

  "I'll ask Grubbs if I can work extra shifts at the club to earn some extra cash," Irene said.

  "Probably best if you don't do that," Julian said. "Any massive change like that might draw unwanted attention from the Feds that we just don't want."

  "How are we going to afford you going to New York then?" Irene asked. She could feel the panic rising in her throat. "We don't have anything left to sell."

  "Well, love, this ain't the first odd package we have gotten from New York in the last few months," he said. "After the Feds finished raping our lives, I got a delivery at the shop except it came by way of the grocer. Weirdest package address ever. At any rate, a note was attached to it that said Compliments of the man who took your daughter. It freaked me out at first after everything we had been through. I was tempted to call the FBI, but I didn't. Something held me back. When I opened it, I was absolutely floored."

  "What was in it?" Irene asked.

  "Cash," Julian replied. "It was a shiny, leather pilot briefcase with wheels that was loaded to the brim with cash."

  "Are you serious?" Irene asked. "Why didn't you tell me?"

  "Because I was scared and worried about you," Julian said. "What was I going to
say anyways? 'Hey Irene I got a mysterious delivery of cash that probably belonged to the guy who took our girl but for reasons I don't understand was sent to us by some mystery benefactor?' I didn't even want to pull you into it until I had something to go on, and now I do. Well.....sort of. The point is that money, wherever it came from, is going to help us find Jane, without drawing the attention of good old Uncle Sam and his henchmen."

  "Where's the money now?" Irene asked in a whisper, as if the oak might overhear.

  "Charlene has been keeping it safe for us," Julian said. "No one would dare touch her spare tire the way it looks right now. Heck, I barely want to touch it. The money is hidden under it."

  "Do you think the Feds will question you up and leaving like this?" Irene asked, getting nervous again.

  "It is precisely why I plan on driving," Julian said. "Besides, I have an excuse. I have to see a guy about some parts for Charlene. Might as well take a wide detour and visit the Big Apple. I'll bring her back Irene, or I will die trying. I knew that job at the NTSB would come in handy one day. I just never expected I would need those skills to track down my own baby girl."

  Irene hugged her husband's neck.

  "I have never loved you more than I do at this moment Jules," Irene said. "Be careful, please. I couldn't stand life anymore if I lost you both."

  So much had to be planned, but none of it could be done in an obvious manner which would attract attention from anyone; including their friends. Within a week's time, however, Julian was ready to go, and Irene was seeing him off from the safety of their front porch.

  "God be with you my love," she whispered as he drove away. She couldn't stop the tears that fought their way down her cheeks.

  "Awe, there, there," said Candy Rose, taking her friend's hand in her own. "You act like he is going off to fight a war or something."

  "At this moment, Candy," Irene whispered, as she watched her husband's car disappear, "I think he is."

  Acknowledgements

  Writing a novel is a long and arduous process, full of uncertainties and triumphs, adventures and pitfalls – much like life itself. One never knows what to expect from the day to day. One never can tell what might be lurking around the next blank page, and so it is that the avid writer must rely upon a tight network of friends and loved ones to help keep them sane. To help remind them to brush their hair and wash their face when the words pour like a torrent and to eat and change their clothes during the times when the words stubbornly refuse to flow. We writers would be lost without our support system.

  First let me thank you reader for taking the time to finish the book. Although I partly write for myself, for the love of the written word and of storytelling, ultimately, I write for you. To share my worlds with you. I hope you enjoyed the journey and will consider trying other titles I have penned.

  To my family, I offer the greatest thanks for bearing me up when I needed it most. For cheering the loudest when the world went silent, and for making me feeling like a special snowflake in a world full of snowflakes. Thanks to my loving father who faithfully gets up every morning to write with me, forever dispelling the 'lonely writer' myth and reminding me of what I believed as a child – that all things are possible. Thanks to my beautiful mother who has always been the greatest example of grace under pressure, especially in light of an almost two decades of a successful writing career of her own. And thanks to my sister – my near twin and best friend – who never once has allowed me to give up on myself.

  To all my friends who have encouraged and cheered me on...thank you.

  Thanks be to God, my friend and comforter, who gave me the love of the written word. May we always come into the meadow of peace and find each other there. (You know what I mean Lord.)

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  Other Books from H.L. Stephens

  Chronicles of Mister Marmee Series

  The Case of Jack the Nipper

  The Case of the Wayward Fae

  The Case of the Monkey's Misfortune (Coming Soon)

  Plain Jane Assassin Series

  Rise of the White Lotus

  Wars of Avon Rae

  Journey to the Darkened Realm (Coming Soon)

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