Flawed Beauty

by Potter, LR

  “I love you, Dandelion. Are you going to stay with daddy forever and ever?”

  “Yes! Forever and ever and ever,” she squealed as she threw her small arms around his neck once more and planted a sloppy, wet kiss on his smooth cheek.

  Tate jerked upright with tears streaming down her face. Jace’s warm presence behind was gone and she shivered against the loss. Her heart pounded in her chest. What had her dream meant? Was she torturing herself about never having children with Jace? As her breathing slowed, she wiped a hand against the useless tears and thought about the dream. Forcing her mind away from thoughts of Jace, her mind moved in a different direction. Were her continued dreams of angels, memories? Could anyone remember that far back?

  She felt as if she were sitting on a fence: on one side was the life she knew; and on the other, the life she didn’t. She was tired of the struggle of trying to balance on her perch. She decided to go to the areas around Bulls Gap and look up the families. She’d go to the bus station and get a ticket and just go. This way, she could kill two birds with one stone; resolve her family situation and remove herself from Jace. She knew he wouldn’t want to accept their ending right away, tonight had proved that. He’d continue to call her or come by. She swallowed. This was for his own good.

  Chapter 9

  She decided to waste no more time, and even though it was still the middle of the night, she rose and put clothes in her backpack, called and left a message for Zek telling him she’d been called away on a ‘family emergency.’ At least that wasn’t a lie. Ensuring to pack her phone charger, she grabbed the cash she had hidden in the floorboard in her closet, locked the apartment, and hopped on her bike.

  As she sat on the bus making her way, dried-eyed, to Bulls Gap, Tennessee, her thoughts returned repeatedly to Jace. She wished she’d taken hundreds of photos of him, but she’d not taken even one. When it ended, as she’d known it would, she hadn’t wanted any reminders. Now, she realized how shortsighted that was.

  To take her mind off hurtful, needful things, Tate pulled out her phone and looked up the addresses of the three families and jotted them down in her notebook. She’d need to buy a map when she got there. She looked down at her notes and wondered which, or even if, any of these three families were hers: Janice and Lance Thomas: daughter, Jessica, missing at age three – never recovered. Marla and Tyson Williams: daughter Sophie, missing at age four – never recovered. LaVerne and Sal Monroe: daughter, Libbey, missing at age four – never recovered.

  The bus took ten hours to reach the bus stop closest to Bulls Gap. It was late when the bus finally rolled into the gas station, which hosted the bus facilities. The attendant directed Tate to a nearby cheap hotel within walking distance. She registered at the hotel and blanched at the cost of the room, cheap though it was. She’d have to eat sparingly. She unlocked the door to her room and cringed. The room was dingy and done in the orange and green motif popular in the seventies. It smelled musty and moldy. Looking around, she knew she should be used to this; it was what she’d been raised in throughout her squalid existence. But the room had a bed, a shower, and a lock on the door. She hoped to only be here for one night anyway.

  She didn’t sleep at all that night. Besides there being too many things rolling around in her head, the unfamiliar lights and sounds scared her. So she lay in the bed, fully clothed – just in case she needed to make a quick getaway – hugged a pillow close to her, and stared unseeingly at the television. She played and replayed the many desperate messages Jace had left on her phone – just to hear his voice until the sun began to peek through the sparse, threadbare curtains of her room.

  Rising, feeling cramped and sticky, she showered and grabbed her backpack and headed to a nearby diner to wait for a more respectable hour. She ordered the dollar ninety-nine breakfast special and a cup of unlimited coffee. As she sat stirring sugar and creamer into her cup, she began to make a plan on how best to approach the families. It wasn’t like she could just walk up and say, Am I your daughter? She rubbed a hand over her face. How would she ever know for sure? Blood tests, she guessed.

  Tate heard the vibration of her phone on the table – Jace. Taking a deep breath, she considered ignoring it once more, but remembered the desperation of his previous messages.

  “Hey,” she answered softly.

  “Oh, thank God! I’ve been so worried. Where are you and why haven’t you returned my calls? Damn it, Tate. You don’t just leave and not tell me.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. I… I just think it’s best if we have some separation right now. You… you need to move on with your life… without me,” she said brokenly.

  “Damn it, Tate! I don’t want a life without you. Tell me where you are,” he demanded.

  “Jace, you were an unexpected gift – a rare treasure. But we were never destined to be together. Can’t you see that?” she implored.

  “Tell. Me. Where. You. Are,” he demanded once more.

  “Goodbye, Jace,” she said, clicking off her phone even as she heard him yelling her name across the line.

  The phone began to vibrate immediately. She thought about turning it off, but in a perverse way, it made her feel still connected to at least one person in this wide, wide world.

  She picked up the list Alan had given her, and thought about his words; there were thirteen children stolen from their families from this area alone. Thirteen families destroyed. Thirteen families continuously seeking for their missing child. She wondered if her parents continued to look for her? If they missed her anymore? If when the holidays came around, or her birthday, did they think about her? Did they wish she could be there with them? Or had they simply moved on? Was she now just a vague memory to them? Would she be an unwanted intrusion into their lives?

  Anxiety rose up within her. What if they didn’t want anything to do with her? What if, once she found them, they rejected her – turned her away? She shook her head, she had to know. She couldn’t go throughout her whole life and not know who she was or where she came from. Another dark thought crossed her mind… what if they’d never wanted her and were happy she’d been taken?

  She studied the three families listed on her paper and the notes she’d made. One family lived here in Bulls Gap, another in Morristown, which was about fifteen miles from Bulls Gap. And the third family lived in Greeneville, a little over fifteen miles from here. She thought about her limited funds and wondered how she would ever get to these places. It wasn’t as if Bulls Gap had a taxi service. If she’d had her bike it wouldn’t have been a problem.

  As the waitress came by to top off her coffee, she asked, “Is there anywhere I can purchase a used bike?”

  The older woman with twinkling blue eyes and shocking white hair smiled. “Well now, let’s see. If you wander down in the downtown district, there’s a thrift store. They might have one.”

  “The downtown district?” Tate asked, confused.

  The waitress, whose name tag declared her Tippy, laughed. “Sorry, it’s a little joke. This is the downtown district. The thrift shop is just around the corner. Tell old Jack that Tippy sent you, and he’ll give you a fifteen percent discount.”

  “Thanks, I will,” Tate murmured.

  She looked at her list once more. Marla and Tyson Williams: daughter, Sophie, missing at age three – never recovered. They lived here in Bulls Gap; that was her obvious first choice.

  By eight a.m. the diner began to fill up. Tate felt bad for taking up a space, so she gathered her belongings and decided to go ahead and reserve her room for another night, as she didn’t think she’d be able to get to all three places today. Unless of course she was lucky enough to find her parents on the very first try. Again the nagging thought returned, how would she know they were her parents, even if she did find them?

  The hotel clerk took her money and provided her with a well-worn map of Tennessee. “Be sure to return that,” he warned.

  As old as the map looked, Tate assumed she’d f
ind notations from the Civil War written on it. But she just smiled and assured him she definitely would return it.

  Going back to her dreary room, she pulled out her notes and the map. Tyson and Marla Williams lived on 2457 Tank’s Holler Road. Tate carefully reviewed the map until she found the small road. It didn’t appear to be that far from her, so she thought she could walk it. She pulled out her phone and did a map search on the distance – it was within five miles. She could definitely walk it.

  Slinging her backpack over her shoulder, she took a deep breath, and headed out. Distractedly, Tate could hear the hum of the small town in the throes of the early morning. The swish of cars as they drove past her. The chirp of birds as they went about doing their early morning chores of building nests or feeding their chicks. The indistinct chatter of people as they opened their shops, or dropped their children off at the bus stop. Leaving the main part of town of Bulls Gap, it took her nearly an hour to reach Tank’s Holler Road. The road wasn’t paved and was lined with trees and fences. Inside the fences lived several different breeds of cattle. Tate tried to remember if she’d ever seen a cow close up before, but she didn’t think so.

  She followed the road, checking each mailbox as she went. When she reached 2457, she paused and looked down the lane. The old, rambling farmhouse stood about a quarter of a mile down the lane. From where she stood, she could see chickens pecking in the yard and clothes flapping on a clothesline. She struggled to find anything which would spark a memory. She felt a twinge in her chest as she looked down the lane. Did she remember this place? She didn’t think so. Taking another deep breath, she turned onto the lane and slowly made her way towards the house. As she neared, a dog lying under the steps of the house rose, stretched, and cocked his head at her. She hesitated, not knowing if the dog would charge her as she drew close. Shaking off her apprehension, she continued forward. When she got with five yards, the dog began to howl, and at once, she hesitated. The front door drew her attention as a woman dressed in jeans came out and yelled at the dog.

  “Homer, shut your yappin’!”

  The light-haired woman glanced up and noticed Tate standing there. Tate stared at her and again felt a twinge in her chest. What did it mean? Could this woman be her mother? Tate just didn’t know.

  “Can I help you?” she asked.

  Nervously, Tate cleared her throat. “Hi. My name is Tate Morgan. I’m looking for Marla Williams.”

  “I’m Marla Williams.”

  Moving forward to shake her hand, Tate said, “I’m from the University of Florida and I’m doing some research on the effects missing children have on families. Your family was one of the names given to me. If it wouldn’t be too awkward or painful, I wondered if I could talk with you for a few minutes.”

  The woman stood still for so long, Tate almost decided to leave. Maybe this was a really bad idea.

  “Well, come on, then. Don’t worry about Homer. He’s a lover not a biter,” she said with a small smile.

  Tate rubbed a nervous hand over her jean-clad thigh. She moved forward while putting a wide berth between herself and Homer. She gave the woman a small smile as she passed her as she entered the house. From up close, Tate could see the lines of age clearly etched into the woman’s face.

  Tate sat where the woman indicated.

  The woman raised a hand, roughened by years on a farm, to push her hair from her face. “You say you’re from the University?”

  Tate cringed at the little white lie while staring intently at the woman, struggling to find her own features in the woman’s face. “Yes, ma’am. Would it be all right if I asked you a few questions?” Tate asked, following the script she’d made up for herself.

  Marla Williams stared at her with such dead eyes, Tate was forced to look away.

  “Will the paper be published? Will it help maybe bring my baby home?”

  Tate just shrugged her shoulders, her chest tightening at the woman’s pain. Was this woman her mother? She stared intently into the woman’s watery brown eyes.

  Clearing her throat, Marla asked, “What do you want to know?”

  Tate reached into her backpack and pulled out the list of questions she’d written for the fake interview.

  Staring down at her notes, she said, “Your daughter’s name was Sophie, right?”

  “Is,” Marla responded abruptly.

  Tate raised confused eyes to her.

  “Her name is Sophie,” Janice responded.

  “Yes, of course. I’m sorry,” Tate replied softly.

  Marla shifted her gaze from Tate’s and stared unseeingly out the window. “She was such a beautiful little thing, so tiny when she was born, she could fit in one of Ty’s hands. She loved to run and skip through the fields. And she wasn’t scared of nothin’. I loved that little girl,” she finished quietly.

  Tate sat very still, listening to this woman, and had no doubt that she had indeed loved her child. When Marla lifted bright eyes to Tate’s, she cleared her throat and asked softly, “Can you tell me how she was taken?”

  “Well, we’d gone into town for the local fair. For us, it was always a treat to go to town because we’d always stop and buy something – nothing big or major. Sometimes all we got was an ice cream…”

  Tate’s thoughts moved away from the woman speaking as she struggled to pull something from the fringes of her memory:

  ”Well hi, little princess. Your dress is so sweet. Are you here all alone?”

  “Of course not. My mommy is buying me a pretzel.”

  “Do you like pretzels?”

  “Not as much as ice cream.”

  “Would you like an ice cream?”

  With her eyes dancing, she said, “Yes.”

  “Well come with me and I’ll get you one. But we have to be quiet. I wouldn’t want to make your mom angry. Can you be quiet?”

  “Oh yes, very quiet.”

  “Okay, well let’s go then.”

  “… and then when I turned around, she was just… gone. Like into thin air,” Tate heard Marla say as she brought her mind back to the present.

  With her heart pounding, Tate asked with a choked voice, “Did you buy her a pretzel?”

  Marla gave her an odd look. “Pretzel? No, weren’t you listenin’? That day I bought her a little pony with a long pink mane.”

  Tate blinked rapidly at the words. “Do you have a picture of your daughter?”

  Marla leaned over to the table by her chair and picked up an eight-by-ten picture frame and handed it over to Tate. With trembling fingers, Tate took it and stared at the little girl. Her hair was pulled into two ponytails on either side of her head. There were yellow ribbons tied around the ponytails, which matched the yellow jumper she wore.

  Belatedly, she realized Marla had begun to speak once more. “…long, flowing blonde hair; big, bright blue eyes…”

  Tate scrunched her eyebrows together and looked back down at the picture. “Blue eyes?”

  Marla slid her gaze back to Tate. “Yeah, her eyes were blue, why?”

  Tate swallowed. “Uh, no reason. I just didn’t know that.”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Uh, no.” This wasn’t her. Her eyes were a light brown, not blue. This wasn’t her mother. Tate felt her heart seize. She’d hoped she was. She’d wished she could have eased the suffering for the both of them.

  Swallowing, Tate handed the picture back to Marla Williams. “She was very beautiful. Can I ask you a personal question?”

  Marla blinked at what she considered the strange question. “Haven’t they all been personal?”

  Tate gave a small smile. “I guess so.” She glanced down as she twirled a pen between her fingers. “If you could find your daughter one day, would you want to? Would you want her back, no matter what had happened to her… no matter what she turned out to be?”

  “Yes, absolutely. I’d take her back under any circumstances. I love her and I miss her every day. I’d give my own life for just one more minute wi
th her. I pray to God that he at least let her live and that somehow she is happy, and was not hurt.”

  Tate’s rapid breathing filled the air between them. She reached down and shoved her notepad and pen back into her pack. She stood and murmured as she walked quickly to the door, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come. I’m so sorry for the inconvenience.”

  Marla stood and followed her. “Wait, what about your research?”

  Tate continued to walk away without turning around. “I’m sorry, so sorry,” she murmured again.

  She made it to the dirt road before she allowed the tears to slip down her cheeks. What had she hoped to gain? She’d not solved anything. She’d only stirred up painful memories for a woman who’d already been through hell. What if none of the three families on the list were hers? Then she’d only brought up painful memories for them and solved nothing. What if her mother wasn’t like Marla Williams? What if she didn’t want her back? Could she withstand that?

  Wearily, she climbed up the stairs to her room. Her loss of sleep from the night before, as well as being so emotionally overwrought, had her falling face-down on the bed and curling up on her side. She wished she was home. She wished more than anything she was wrapped tight in Jace’s arms as he idly ran his hands up and down her spine in comfort.

  In a way to offer herself comfort – even if it was fake comfort – she told herself, if she still wanted to, she could call him when she woke. She wouldn’t but it was a nice way to psych herself out. As her eyes slowly drifted shut, her chest burned and her heart twisted painfully. Brit was a better fit for Jace, with her cheery red suit and white pearls. She’d be a perfect match, the perfect swan.

  The chapel was beautiful as the sun streamed in through the stained glass windows. She looked up into Thor’s face and smiled as he led her down the aisle. The swish of her long, white gown sounded as she walked. Lifting her gaze, she saw Jace standing with the minister. He was wearing a black tux with a crisp white shirt, a black bowtie, and a red rosebud in his lapel. Her heart squeezed in her chest when he gave her that special, sexy smile he reserved just for her. This was right… this was good.