Moon Over the Mountain

by Carol Dean Jones

  “Not really? What does that mean?” Sarah asked.

  “That’s exactly what the clerk asked.”

  “And Higgy said …?” Sarah asked, trying to pull the entire story out of her friend.

  “Higgy explained that he had actually gotten married years ago but that it was in Las Vegas and didn’t count.”

  “Didn’t count?” Sarah asked more confused by the minute.

  “Yes! He explained that Las Vegas marriages are just for fun and they don’t count.”

  “What?” Sarah exclaimed. “Of course, they count.”

  “I know, I know. And the clerk knows, and now my ex-fiancé, Mr. Cornelius Higginbottom, the idiot, knows.”

  “Ex?” Sarah responded.

  “Well, maybe not ex yet, but soon to be ex unless this gets straightened out.”

  “Did he ever give you any more details? I find the whole thing extraordinary.”

  “To say the least!” Sophie responded. “I wasn’t much in the mood for listening until much later. On our flight back from Anchorage, he told me his version of the whole story … and I say his version because I don’t know what I can believe any more. Supposedly he was seeing this exotic dancer back when he was in his twenties. He had flown down from Alaska with this buddy of his for a couple of weeks in Las Vegas.”

  “That’s got to be at least forty years ago?” Sarah said.

  “Don’t make excuses for him. People should know whether or not they got married even if it was forty years ago. Anyway, this gal’s name was Lulu Ballou. …”

  “Lulu Ballou?”

  “Yes.”

  When Sophie seemed to have stopped in her story, Sarah said, “Tell me the rest.”

  “Okay, well, when we got back to Timmy’s house, he called information in Las Vegas and, as you would expect, there was no Lulu Ballou or Lulu Higginbottom listed.” Sophie’s voice began to crack as if she might be about to cry.

  “Sophie?” Sarah said. “Are you okay?”

  “No. I’m so upset about all this, and I don’t know whether to be angry or hurt or disappointed or …”

  “My guess is that you’re all those things. I know I would be.”

  “What should I do?” Sophie pleaded, not sounding anything like the strong woman Sarah knew her to be.

  “Well, I guess you need to find this Ballou person and see if maybe she got a divorce. If she did, that would solve the problem. Otherwise, you’ll have to wait while he gets a divorce himself.”

  “How do we find her? She’s probably not still in Las Vegas. It’s been forty years!”

  “I don’t know, honey. I just don’t know. Let me think about it and call you back. In the meantime, try to relax. We’ll figure out something.”

  * * * * *

  “I know, Charles. I know. It’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.” Sarah had called Charles right away and told him Sophie’s rather bizarre story.

  “He actually thought that a Las Vegas marriage didn’t count?” Charles repeated incredulously.

  “He said he didn’t know it was legal; he thought it was just for fun.”

  “And Sophie still wants to marry this quirky guy?”

  “She’s reluctant to give up on him. She loves him, you know. I’m wondering if there is anything you can do to find this woman?”

  Charles remained quiet, leaving Sarah to wonder if he was thinking about it or marveling that she would have the nerve to involve him in something so ridiculous. Finally he spoke up, much to Sarah’s relief, saying, “I might be able to find out if she filed for a divorce, assuming she did it in Las Vegas. If there’s no record there, maybe John’s FBI friend could do something. …” he added hesitantly.

  “That would be wonderful, but I would guess your son would be embarrassed to have to tell his friend these details.”

  “He’s heard worse, I’m sure.”

  I haven’t, Sarah thought. “Let me know what you find out. I’m not going to tell Sophie you’re looking into it just yet.”

  “Does this Higginbottom person have any kind of plan for straightening this out?” Charles asked.

  “No. Sophie said he’s still sitting around mumbling that he didn’t think it would count.”

  “I hope your friend rethinks her plans. This guy worries me.” With a sarcastic chuckle he added, “I wonder if he was marrying Sophie in Alaska because he thought that wouldn’t count either.”

  “Now, Charles. He may be a doofus like you said last week, but I don’t think he’d intentionally hurt Sophie. I think he seriously cares for her.”

  As Sarah headed back toward the lodge, she felt like she was being watched, but she was too concerned about Sophie to take it seriously, telling herself it was just her imagination.

  She continued walking at a quickened pace and was relieved when she could hear the sounds of the lodge just ahead. As she stepped out of the woods, she saw a group of people climbing out of a minibus with lettering on the side that said Sounds of the Mountains.

  Sarah wasn’t much in the mood for sewing, but fortunately, as she reached the room, her class was in the process of breaking for the day. “Don’t forget to join us on the front porch after dinner for a good ol’ mountain jamboree,” Brenda was saying.

  * * * * *

  Sarah heard the music from her room and hurried downstairs. She met Jane and Holly in the lobby and the three went out on the front porch. The sun was setting behind the mountains and canvas chairs had been set up on the porch along with a refreshments table. The band was playing in the parking lot just below.

  The band consisted of three men and a woman. Looking like something out of the 70s, the men had long hair and unruly beards. All three wore tank tops despite the cool evening, but by the end of the night, they were dripping with sweat. Playing banjos and guitars, the men were a raucous, boot-stomping group who immediately had the audience either clapping or dancing on the far end of the porch.

  The woman, with her long flowing hair and a transcendent voice, accompanied herself on the mountain dulcimer, providing the audience with meditative, peaceful breaks. Sarah was again intrigued by the sounds emanating from this haunting instrument.

  Sarah enjoyed the performances, particularly the woman’s music as it helped to calm her jangled nerves. Although she was eager to hear from Charles and was worried about her friend, she would never forget this unique experience under the stars.

  It was the fifth day of the retreat and they were almost ready to put their rows together. Everyone had finished their pieced blocks, even the two women who did their own creations. Cheryl had passed out the packets of pictures and Sarah began spreading them out on her table. She was surprised at the quality and could hardly wait to tell Charles how they came out.

  Brenda told them to begin figuring out where they wanted to place each of the photos. Sarah decided to put them in order with the actual ceremony in the top rows and their honeymoon pictures toward the bottom. Through the middle would be all the friends and family pictures.

  The lavender in her Ohio Star blocks made Sophie’s lavender dress stand out. Sophie was her matron of honor and Charles had picked up the color of her dress in his cummerbund. Both pictures looked excellent placed next to her colorful pieced blocks. Her daughter Martha was wearing an aqua suit, so her picture also looked nice against the aqua and lavender blocks.

  Once she had her layout planned, Brenda told her to start putting borders around the photos to make them a consistent eight-and-a-half inches square to match the pieced blocks.

  Once that was done, Sarah was comfortably on familiar turf. Sewing the rows together and adding the borders would be easy for her, whereas there were several new quilters who would need help.

  Sarah kept her cell phone handy, hoping to hear from Charles. When he hadn’t called by lunchtime, she decided to call him.

  Standing on the front porch, she immediately got a dial tone.

  “Hi, babe,” he answered. “I was just sitting down in the backy
ard getting ready to call you. Would you believe I’m sitting here looking at Barney’s nose which is sticking out of the doghouse where he’s been all day?”

  “He’s inside the doghouse?”

  “You bet. He’s inside and apparently he loves it.”

  Barney opened one eye and looked at Charles. Then closed it again and sighed.

  “Do you have news for me?” she asked, unable to wait for him to get around to telling her.

  “I called the courthouse out there. Unfortunately, there’s no record of a Higginbottom-Higginbottom divorce being filed in Las Vegas,”

  “That’s not good news.”

  “Then I tried finding the wife through information, Ballou and Higginbottom both. No luck. I even tried using my cop identification and checked for unlisted numbers.”

  “Still no luck?” Sarah asked.

  “No luck. I talked to John and he’s going to get his FBI friend involved in finding the woman, although we don’t know much about her.”

  “I think I should let Sophie know what you’re doing. It would be a relief to her to know someone is working on it. Higgy is still in a fog about the whole thing and doesn’t know what to do. They’re both terribly disappointed.”

  “Yeah, go ahead and tell her. I think I’ll give Higgy a call tonight and see if I can drag more information out of him. Do you have his cell phone number?”

  “Just call Sophie’s cell.” She also gave him Tim’s house phone number in case he needed it. They went on to talk about what they’d been doing. Sarah described the photo blocks and her excitement with the way they came out.

  That afternoon Sarah got her rows put together and laid the borders next to it to see how it was going to look. She was very pleased with the overall look and knew Charles would love it.

  Sarah smiled as she cleaned up her area and went up to her room. She had decided to spend the evening reading and possibly calling her daughter, Martha.

  Sarah was surprised to find that her cell phone wasn’t working at the overlook. It was about 10:00 the next morning, and she had taken a break in order to talk to Charles and find out what he learned from Higgy the night before. She had tried from the porch and there was no signal there. Other women at breakfast had said they were having trouble today. They were expecting a storm later in the day and they figured that was causing the interference. She had walked to the overlook, feeling comfortable now with that route through the woods, but there was no signal there either.

  She was disappointed, but she stood for a while and marveled at the view. She decided to follow the edge of the precipice to the right and see if she could find a better spot. Following the curve of the ledge, she began to get another view of the valley, more to the right where a river snaked its way through the basin. She saw several trailers along the river banks. What a peaceful place to live, she mused, stopping to absorb the serene beauty.

  No matter how far she continued, she never found a signal, so she decided to turn back. When she came to the trail, she turned left to return to the lodge. She noticed the path was somewhat overgrown in places and wondered why she hadn’t noticed that before. She was aware of the tinkling of a shallow stream meandering through the rocks not far from the path. Suddenly she realized the path she was following was a dirt path, not the gravel nature trail she had followed to get up to the overlook. I turned too soon, she told herself.

  Ahead, the dirt path was beginning to disappear into the woods. Not wanting to turn back, she continued following the path that was becoming less visible, but she had the feeling it was leading her toward the lodge. She stopped suddenly when she heard twigs snapping nearby followed by a rustling in the weeds to her left. She became tense and crouched in the thicket. Am I being followed? She could hear the rustling of the tall grasses along the edge of the stream. She could feel the tingle on the back of her neck as fear crept up her spine.

  Whether she was being followed by a person or an animal, Sarah knew she had to get back to the lodge. She decided to take a leap of faith and cut straight through the woods toward what she thought would be the location of the original nature trail. She tried to run, but found herself restricted by her aging joints. She had a mental image of a younger version of herself running quickly through the woods, leaping over fallen trees. In fact, she was barely moving and when she came to fallen trees, she needed to stop and carefully step over them one foot at a time. When did I get so old and stiff, she asked herself, trying to take her attention off the potential danger.

  When she spotted the nature trail straight ahead, she took a deep breath, feeling safe for a moment before realizing she still had a long way to go. Once she reached the path, she quickened her pace and headed toward the lodge.

  Suddenly, and before she realized what was happening, her left ankle collapsed beneath her and she struggled to catch herself but fell to the ground with a gasp. She moaned and looked around feeling extremely vulnerable. Her ankle was throbbing and she hoped it wasn’t broken. Wondering what had happened, she looked back at the trail and saw that there was a rutted area along the side of the path. She realized she must have stepped too close to the edge and lost her balance.

  She started to get up but felt a stabbing pain in her ankle and decided to stay on the ground until she could evaluate whether she was seriously injured.

  Suddenly, she froze. The tall grasses near her were parting. Something or someone was closely approaching her.

  “You okay, lady?” A small boy crept out of the grasses and walked toward her holding out his hand as if to help her up.

  “I just fell, but what are you doing out here?” she asked.

  The boy dropped his hand and started to speak, but instead turned and ran through the grasses and out of sight.

  The boy had appeared young, probably no more than seven or eight. His hair was long and disheveled, his clothes ripped and dirty. He was barefoot. Sarah stared after him in surprise. She listened for footsteps, wondering if he had been alone, but the woods were now silent.

  Pulling herself together, she tried standing and found that, although in pain, she could walk. I must have sprained my ankle, she told herself, realizing the pain was familiar. She had turned her ankle often when she was attempting to learn to ice skate when she was young and twice it had been sprained. The instructor had told her she had weak ankles and needed to spend time building them up.

  She thought about stopping and trying her cell phone again, but who would I call, she wondered. Charles couldn’t help her and she didn’t want to tell the people at the lodge she was lost in the woods. But then I’m not lost, she reassured herself. In fact, she was beginning to recognize the signs on the flora and knew she was moments away from the lodge.

  When she burst out into the parking lot by the lodge, she saw several quilters from her group. They waved as if nothing had happened.

  Has anything really happened? she asked herself. I made a wrong turn. I heard sounds in the woods that could have easily been an animal, but was probably the young boy. I fell. She shook her head, reprimanding herself for such histrionics. This isn’t like me at all, she admonished herself.

  * * * * *

  The afternoon was spent working on their quilts. Peggy, a fellow quilter, had wrapped Sarah’s ankle and agreed it was probably a sprain. Sarah refused a ride to the hospital, knowing it would be better in a few days. She was still a little shaky from her experience, but had told herself she was overreacting.

  “Sarah, are you okay?” Holly asked.

  “I’m still a little shaky from the fall, but I’m fine.” She started to tell her about the boy, but thought better of it. He probably lives up here in the mountains. She felt a strange loyalty toward him. He had obviously been concerned about her fall, but his desire to get away was stronger. She wondered if she would ever see him again.

  By midafternoon, Sarah’s ankle was throbbing. She had added her inner borders and one of the outer borders, but wasn’t able to stand any longer. She realized her
ankle was swelling and knew she needed to sit down and prop it up. She pulled a chair over and found a cushion she could place on it to raise her foot. While she was sitting, she took the opportunity to calculate the amount of fabric she would need for her quilt back but decided not to buy that until she returned home so she could get a coordinated fabric from the same line. The group was taking a field trip the next day to a quilt shop and several of the quilters had indicated they were going to buy backs for their quilts.

  That evening the quilters were invited to a play. Holly had wrapped ice in a towel for her and, after a few hours of propping it up, the swelling had gone down and she was able to walk without undue pain. Despite Holly’s objections, she decided to go to the play. “I’ll just be sitting,” she had assured Holly.

  The play was being performed by a local high school; the young people were doing their interpretation of The American Quilt. Sarah had seen the movie with Winona Ryder and was eager to see how these kids would present it. Sarah loved live plays, and they didn’t have to be professional actors. She enjoyed all plays and respected anyone willing to get up on the stage.

  Coby again drove them, but there were only six quilters signed up so they took the minivan. As they pulled out of the parking lot, Sarah glanced toward the woods thinking about the boy; but later, enjoying the play, she put all thoughts aside of her experience in the woods and even of the young boy.

  After the play, they stopped at a country store that had an ice cream machine, and they sat in the parking lot talking about the play. The general consensus was that the book was better than the movie, and that the play was, as one woman said, “Absolutely precious!”

  It was late when they arrived back at the lodge, but even before they reached the final turn, they could see the bright lights. A police car had passed them on the country road as they were approaching. When they pulled in, they were surprised to see five or six police cars spread out around the parking lot. Spotlights were pointed toward the woods and two officers were standing by the entrance to the nature trail.