Moon Over the Mountain

by Carol Dean Jones

  When Coby came to pick her up, he said he was off for the day so he sat down with Sarah and the family and they devoured the cake and most of the milk. “I’ll bring more tomorrow,” she assured them, looking over at Coby with raised eyebrows.

  “Done,” he responded with a grin, knowing she had just asked him to pick up more milk.

  Sarah and Coby were quiet on the ride back to the lodge. If we can’t find the father, that family won’t be able to stay together, she told herself feeling a lump in the pit of her stomach.

  By the time Sarah got back to the lodge, she barely had time to take a shower and get dressed before she heard the gentle knock at the door. Assuming it was Charles, she hurried to the door and was almost breathless when she opened it. But, to her surprise, Ricky was standing at the door, wearing shoes with broken laces and holding a small package wrapped in brown paper. “We want you to have this,” he said shyly.

  “What’s this?” she said. “Come on in.” She opened the door wide and the young boy reluctantly stepped over the threshold.

  He looked around the room with big eyes and finally commented, “You rich?”

  Sarah laughed and responded, “No, Ricky. Not at all. I don’t live here; I’m just visiting. Now, what’s this you brought me?”

  “Addie May told me to bring you this. It was Mama’s,” he said, handing her the small package.”

  “Oh, Ricky, I can’t take something of your mother’s.”

  “Open it.”

  Reluctantly, she carefully removed the paper and found inside a gold locket embellished with a red stone in the shape of a heart. She gasped. “Oh! This is beautiful, and so delicate. But Ricky, I really can’t take this. It should stay in your family.”

  “Addie May said it would bring you luck finding our dad.” Sarah opened the locket and found a picture of a handsome young man. “Who’s this inside? Your Dad?”

  “Yeah, that’s Papa.”

  “Your sister’s right. This will help us find your father. We need a picture of him. So here’s what I’ll do.” She glanced over and found him looking her in the eye eagerly, waiting for her response. “I’ll remove the picture just for now and give it to my husband while he’s searching for your dad. And I’ll wear the locket for good luck. But when your father’s home, we’ll put the picture back inside and give the locket to Addie May to save for you children. How’s that?”

  Ricky blushed and looked at the floor for a moment, then raised his head and replied with a smile, “I like that.” Sarah wanted more than anything at that moment to wrap her arms around this little boy and promise him everything would be all right, but she knew he wouldn’t like to be hugged just yet, and she also knew that would be an empty promise. Instead, she extended her hand, and he shyly reached for it and they shook hands.

  “It’s a deal,” she announced and smiled as she walked him to the door.

  Moments later, there was another knock at the door, this time more forceful and determined.

  As she opened the door, she and Charles fell into each other’s arms “I don’t ever want to be away from you that long again,” her handsome husband said as he held her close to his heart.

  * * * * *

  “Where can we find a grocery store?” Sarah asked. She and Charles had finished breakfast at the lodge and were ready to head out to the Abernathy home. Turning away from the desk clerk and addressing Charles, she said, “I went through the cupboards and only found cornmeal and a few bags of beans. I think that’s about all they’ve been eating.”

  “Turn left when you leave the lodge,” the desk clerk responded. “Follow the dirt road down the mountain. It meanders a bit, but you’ll hit the highway in about fifteen minutes. Turn right when you get there, and the market is just up the road on your left. It’s nothing fancy. …”

  “No problem. I just want to pick up a few things.”

  In fact, they left with five bags of groceries, much of the small shop’s inventory.

  All four children were happy to see her when Addie May opened the door, but they seemed reticent when they spotted Charles behind her. “This is my husband, Mr. Parker, and the man I told you about who’s going to be looking for your father,” she said as she sat two of the bags down on the sink. Charles carried the other three over and put them on the small kitchen table and spoke to the children.

  Addie May came close to Sarah and whispered, “Miss Sarah, Papa wouldn’t want us taking charity. …”

  “I know, Addie May, but your father would want you children to have good food to eat. In the meantime, let’s get some food in these children. Do they like bacon and eggs?”

  Except for Tommy who had again taken up residence behind the chair, the children squealed with excitement.

  Sarah and Addie May put the food away while Charles sat across from them in the living room. Sarah smiled to see Baby Girl crawl into his lap carrying the book. “Read me. Read me,” she demanded.

  “What’s the baby’s real name?” Sarah asked Addie May as she laid slices of bacon into the skillet.

  “Papa was so upset when mama died, he couldn’t tell them what to write down so they jist wrote Baby Girl Abernathy. I guess she needs a real name, but we’ve been calling her Baby Girl for so long, it seems like her name.”

  Sarah smiled and looked over at the little girl snuggled into Charles’ arms with her thumb in her mouth and her ragged blanket held close. I’ll make her a little quilt when I get home, she thought. Addie May saw a cloud pass over Sarah’s eyes and asked if she was okay.

  “Oh yes, I’m fine,” she said knowing she had to keep her own doubts hidden from the children. Where in the world is the father, and what will become of this family if he’s never found?

  After breakfast, Sarah and Charles sat in the living room at Addie May’s insistence while she and Ricky did the dishes. “Who’s responsible for this nice fire?” Charles asked, looking at the blazing flames in the wood-burning stove.

  “I did it,” Ricky responded.

  “Well, I helped,” Addie May added.

  “Me too, me too,” Baby Girl called out, afraid she was going to be left out.

  A playful argument ensued as each child, except Tommy, demanded his or her share of the credit. “Wait a minute,” Charles interrupted. “It sounds to me like this was a family affair. You all did your part and it’s a great fire.” Then addressing just Addie May, he asked, “Is this your only source of heat?”

  “We have a gas furnace but they cut the gas off last month. I guess Papa hadn’t paid the bill. Anyway, we don’t need it. This old stove of Grandpa’s keeps us warm.”

  “Even in the bedrooms?” Sarah asked.

  “We’re all sleeping in Papa’s bed while he’s gone,” Addie May responded. “We keep each other warm.” Sarah knew she was keeping them more than just warm; she was helping them feel safe and loved.

  Thinking about the bills for the first time, she asked Addie May, “How about the electricity bill. Do you …?”

  “Mary Beth paid the bill last month. Papa will pay her back too,” she quickly added.

  Sarah and Addie May sat down at the kitchen table with a few sheets of paper from the notebook Charles always carried in his breast pocket. “It’s habit,” he had said.

  Together they planned a few meals that Addie May could make. The young girl had never cooked a whole chicken and Sarah decided to cut it up so they could freeze portions. She checked the freezer compartment and, of course, found it empty. Most of the food she brought was canned since she thought that would be easiest for Addie May. Before she closed the refrigerator, she smiled seeing all the fresh fruit and vegetables.

  “Okay, kids. Mr. Parker and I need to do some investigating. Is it okay if we look through your father’s papers? We might be able to find out something about where he is.”

  “Him went to work,” Baby Girl offered, speaking through her thumb.

  Addie May tussled the little girl’s curly hair as she led Sarah and Charles
to her father’s bedroom. Sarah felt a pang of sadness when she saw the four pillows neatly lined up across the head of the bed and the quilts folded at the bottom. Her heart went out to this vulnerable little family. “Papa keeps most of his papers in this drawer,” Addie May said as she opened the top drawer of the dresser. “And there’s a shoebox up there on that shelf, but I don’t know what’s in it.”

  Charles looked reluctant to handle her father’s belongings and Addie May seemed to sense it. “Just spread it out on the bed or bring it into the kitchen table.”

  “Thank you, Addie May,” Sarah said and gently slipped her arm around the girl’s thin shoulder. Addie May leaned into Sarah ever so slightly and smiled up at her before turning and leaving the room.

  Ricky shyly stuck his head in the room and said, “Can I help?”

  “You sure can, Ricky,” Charles responded. “Help me carry all this stuff into the kitchen table. There’s more light out there.” Together the three carried all the papers and the shoebox into the kitchen. Sarah and Charles sat down and began sorting through the papers. Ricky quickly became bored with the process and announced he was going outside. Tommy slipped on his jacket and followed his brother out the door.

  Addie May sat down and held Baby Girl on her lap and sang very softly. Her voice reminded Sarah of the haunting tones produced by the young girl the night of the jamboree at the lodge. That seems so long ago.

  Soon the baby fell asleep and Addie May carried her into the bedroom. Sarah peeked in later and saw that they were curled up together, both sleeping. She quietly spread a quilt over them. The baby sighed and snuggled closer to her sister.

  “Let’s put all these pay stubs together. They’re from the mine here. That’s the one that closed down, right? Isn’t he working up in West Virginia?” Charles asked.

  “That’s what Mary Beth’s father thinks, but he doesn’t know where. Hopefully, we’ll find a pay stub or something telling us where.” They found bills, all with notations of the date they were paid, but nothing dated within the past six weeks. They found several unpaid electric bills, then one which settled all the previous ones with a carefully written notation that it was paid by Mary Beth the previous week. Charles put the unpaid gas bills in a pile and slipped them into his jacket pocket.

  “How long has he been working in West Virginia?” Charles asked. “We should have found pay stubs.”

  “I don’t know. Probably a few months. I know he was out of work for a long time.”

  “Maybe he kept them wherever he was staying during the week,” Charles speculated.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if he was living in his car.”

  “He could be bunking with somebody up there.”

  Later Sarah made sandwiches while Charles finished going through the papers and returned them to the dresser. Addie May rounded up the kids for lunch.

  “Addie May,” Charles began. “Can you think of any other place he might have been keeping papers, like maybe his pay stubs or other important papers?”

  Addie May looked up as if a thought had just crossed her mind. “Once I found something in his pocket when I was washing his jeans. That one was ruined, but I reckon you could look in his other pockets.”

  “That’s a great idea. Will you help me do that after lunch?”

  “Sure,” she said with a smile.

  Later in the afternoon having had no success with the pocket search, Charles made a thorough search of the entire house and still there was no sign of a pay stub or any other evidence of where Mr. Abernathy was working. He did find a manila envelope tucked deep in one of the dresser drawers which contained Clara’s death certificate and a birth certificate for Baby Girl Abernathy. There was also a letter from a local mining company announcing that they were closing the mine. The guy’s whole world fell apart that month, he thought sadly.

  Addie May, with Sarah’s help, had a pot of soup simmering on the stove. “We’d better be going,” he said, sounding discouraged. “I need to come up with a new strategy.”

  As they were saying goodbye to the kids, Charles spotted a flannel shirt hanging on a hook by the back door. “Is that your father’s shirt?” he asked Addie May.

  “Yeah, that’s Papa’s. I forgot about that one.”

  Charles walked over and took the shirt off the hook and immediately felt something in the breast pocket. Pulling it out, a smile spread across his face. “Mickelson Mining: Surface and Highwall Excavation, Bryston, Ohio,” he read aloud.

  Looking surprised, Sarah responded, “That’s in northern Ohio. He couldn’t possibly be working all the way up there, could he?”

  “That’s probably the main office, but they can tell me where he works. I’ll get on the phone to them first thing in the morning.”

  The children were glowing with excitement, but Charles knew this business card offered no assurance their father would be returned to them.

  “Yes, we have a Richard Abernathy working at our Mickelson site in West Virginia. That’s Operation 900B, located about twenty-five miles north of Beaver Creek. I can put you in touch with the foreman down there; I don’t personally know Abernathy.”

  Charles took down the information and immediately dialed the number. “Could it really be this easy?” he said to Sarah as he put the call on speaker and waited for the foreman to answer.

  Standing at the window of their room in the lodge, she responded, “I don’t know, Charles. I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

  “Stevenson,” the voice bellowed into the phone. Charles explained who he was and that he was attempting to find Richard Abernathy. Stevenson didn’t respond for a few moments, then repeated the name, “Abernathy, huh? I’d like to know what became of the man myself. I worked to get him assigned to an eight-days-on four-days-off shift so he could spend time with his family down in Tennessee and the next thing I know, he’s gone.”

  “Gone?”

  “Yeah. Just didn’t show up one day. I was surprised; he’d seemed pleased about the assignment. I don’t usually make concessions like this for new guys, but he was a good worker. Dependable. Well, at least until he stopped showing up,” he added with a sarcastic snort. “He even left his stuff in his locker—just never came back. Do you want this stuff?” Stevenson added.

  “Actually, I’d like to drive up and talk with you and maybe a few of the guys that knew him. I’d really like to track this guy down.”

  “You’re a cop, you say? What did the guy do?”

  “No, I’m retired from the force, and, as far as I know, the guy hasn’t done anything. I’m just helping the family find him. He’s got some kids down here who need him. How about I head up there tomorrow?” Stevenson gave Charles detailed directions from Beaver Creek to the site and said he’d pull a few guys together for him to talk to when he gets there.

  “Ask for me at the gate, that’s Marshall Stevenson.”

  Charles thanked the man and turned to Sarah. “Well, you heard. What do you think?”

  “I don’t know what to think. Nothing I’ve heard about the man indicates that he’d just take off and leave his family. I’m afraid something terrible has happened to him.”

  “I don’t know, honey. People can do strange things under stress. You saw the things we found yesterday: a death certificate, a new baby without a mother, the mine closing. Just the financial pressures alone must have been overwhelming.”

  “Yes,” Sarah agreed, “but he had a job. Granted, it was some 300 miles away, but he had something worked out. He had a plan. Why give up now?”

  “We’re not going to be able to answer that until we find the man and ask him, and I feel confident that we’ll do just that.”

  Sarah shrugged. She definitely didn’t share her husband’s convictions.

  “Do you want to ride up there with me tomorrow?” Charles asked. “It’ll be a long day, but probably a pretty drive, mostly in the mountains.”

  “I’d like to spend the day with the children, if you don’t mind
making the trip alone. I want to teach Addie May how to make a few more easy meals and there’s some mending to do. Besides, you don’t know what you’re going to find. You just might need to stay on a few days.”

  “Hmm, hadn’t thought of that, but you may be right. Okay. I’ll drop you off at their house when I leave in the morning, and you can call Coby when you’re ready to come back to the lodge. I won’t be back until very late; Beaver Creek is in southern West Virginia and will probably be at least a four-hour drive each way to the site. So what would you like to do today?”

  “I’d love to show you Clingman’s Dome and drive through the park. It’s incredibly beautiful and the trees are starting to turn. …”

  “I’d like that,” Charles responded, wrapping her in his arms. “I’ve hardly seen you since I got here. Let’s take today just for the two of us.”

  * * * * *

  The drive to West Virginia had, indeed, been spectacular. Charles hadn’t spent much time in mountainous terrain and was tempted to stop at the various overlooks, but was eager to get this job done. The previous day spent with his wife had been relaxing. He had missed her more than he realized, but he was reminded how good it felt to be with the woman he loved. After so many years of being alone, he never expected to find love again, especially at this age.

  Turning his attention back to the landscape, he noticed scars in the distance as if someone had taken a machete and sliced the top off the mountains. As he got closer, he saw trucks and bulldozers traveling up and down dirt roads that snaked their way up to the bare and flattened sites where men and equipment milled around like so many ants following their internal programs.

  Reaching the gate to Mickelson Site 900B, he announced that he was there to see Marshall Stevenson. The guard, obviously expecting him, directed him to a construction trailer on the back side of the site. As he was driving away, Charles saw the guard place his cell phone to his ear.

  Driving slowly along the gravel road which seemed to encircle the site, he saw a group of trailers parked along the edge, but one in particular stood out as a couple dozen men milled around it. He parked the rental car and walked toward the group which parted for him. A large, brawny man with a full beard and a baseball cap walked toward him. “You Parker?” the man called out above the grinding noise.