“Yeah. Stevenson?”
“You got it. Let’s step inside. Billy?” he called to a disheveled looking man sitting at the desk, “Finish handing out these checks,” he said, handing him a bundle of envelopes. Turning to Charles, he handed him one as well saying, “You might as well take this one.” The name Richard Abernathy was scribbled across the front.
* * * * *
As Sarah was washing the dishes, Baby Girl announced, “Your purse is ringing.”
Sarah hurried over, drying her hands on a tea towel she had purchased at a gift shop the previous day. “Hello?”
“Hi, Mrs. Parker. This is Mary Beth. I stopped by your room to see you, but you were gone. Are you with the children?”
“Yes, Charles brought me here early this morning. Addie May and I have been going over some recipes that her mother had in the cupboard. Has something happened?” she asked, surprised to be hearing from the young woman.
“No, but I remembered something this morning. When I was a little girl, Coby and I would visit the Jenkins and we’d play with Clara in the fields. What I remembered is that there was an older daughter. I never got to know her. She was always helping their mother with the chores; she was much older than Clara.” Sarah slipped on her jacket as they talked and moved outside so the children wouldn’t hear.
“That’s interesting, Mary Beth. That means the children just might have family, although Addie May said she didn’t know of any.”
“Maybe she never met her. I remember hearing something about her living out west, but she was probably at the wedding when Richard and Clara got married. Dad might know more.”
Sara could feel herself becoming hopeful. This would mean the children might have someone to take care of them if the father’s never found, she thought reluctantly, not wanting to admit even to herself that it was a real possibility. “It would be wonderful if we could find family for them,” she said. “Do you remember her name?”
“Rose? Rosie? Maybe Rosalie … I just can’t remember. Her last name would have been Jenkins at that time, but she’s probably married now.”
“I’ll see what I can find out. I saw a few letters in the dresser when Charles and I were looking for pay stubs, but I didn’t take the time to read any of them.” Suddenly making the connection and getting excited, she added, “One was postmarked Oregon. Maybe it’s from Clara’s sister. The children just might have an aunt.”
After they hung up, she asked Addie May if it would be okay to look at the letters. She explained that she thought there might be a relative they don’t know about. “Aunt Rosie?” Addie May responded.
“You know your Aunt Rosie?” Sarah asked both surprised and just a little irritated that Addie May had assured her there was no family.
“No, I don’t know her. I just know Mama had a sister, but we never saw her. There was some sort of problem, but I never knew what it was. She never came here and we never talked about her. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about her,” Addie May added contritely. “I just don’t think of her as family.”
“It’s okay,” Sarah said, putting her arms around the girl. “I can see why you didn’t think of her. Let’s go get the letter.”
* * * * *
Later that day, traveling down the mountain toward a peaceful green valley, Charles pulled over to the side of the road and dialed Sarah’s cell phone. There was no response and he assumed she wasn’t getting cell service again. He tried the room, and she answered on the first ring. “You’re back already? How are the children?” he asked.
“They’re fine. I called Coby around 2:00 to see when he could pick me up. He said he had a busy day and could come right over, or it would have to be after 8:00 in the evening, so I decided to come on back early. The kids were outside playing and Addie May wanted to start reading the book I brought her.” She thought about telling him about the letter, but decided to wait until he got back to the lodge. “How did your meeting go at Mickelson?”
He told her what he had learned in talking with Stevenson and a couple of the men who worked with him. “He was headed home. They said he was eager to get home and had left directly from the worksite, not even checking out or picking up his things. I have his wallet.”
“His wallet? Where was it?”
“It was in his locker under some work shirts. He must have forgotten it, but this gives me a more recent picture of him.”
“He didn’t have his license?”
“No.”
“Did anyone know why he left so fast?”
“Nope. No idea. One of the men he worked with said he was excited about the new work schedule and maybe he was just eager to get home and tell his family. The new schedule has him home for four days between work shifts. No one had any idea why he never came back.”
“Were they telling you everything?” Sarah asked, sounding as if she had questions.
“Well, I thought so until you asked that question. What are you thinking?”
“That maybe something happened there that they don’t want to talk about.”
Charles sat in the car without speaking. The idea slipped wordlessly into that part of his mind that usually picked up on subtle clues. What’s happening to me? He knew that when he’d been on the job, this would never have escaped his attention. “You may be on to something,” he finally said. “I need to go somewhere and think about this.”
“Are you coming back to the lodge?” Sarah asked.
“I think I’ll check into a motel in Beaver Creek and make some notes. I’m going back up there tomorrow,” he added in a more determined tone.
Sarah, showered and wearing one of her favorite flannel gowns, turned the covers down and propped the pillows up so she could sit up in bed. She reached for the book she had been reading, but changed her mind and picked up Rosalie’s letter instead.
My dearest sister, she read.
I know you don’t want to hear from me, but I must make one final attempt to reconcile. Beyond this letter, I won’t bother you again. I want you to know that I love you and would never have purposely hurt you. Yet, I know I did cause you pain. If I had it to do over, things would have turned out differently. I wish you a lifetime of happiness, and I’ll pray you see fit to forgive me someday.
Your loving sister,
Rosalie
Rosalie, she thought. This must be the Aunt Rosie that Addie May remembers hearing about. No matter how many times Sarah read the letter, she found no hint of what had come between the sisters. The envelope was dated 1998 which meant it was written before the children were born and several years after Clara’s and Rosalie’s parents had died.
Since Addie May had never met her aunt, Sarah assumed she was holding in her hand their last contact. She wondered if Rosalie knew her sister had died. Undoubtedly Richard let her know, she thought. But then …
She slipped the letter back into the envelope.
* * * * *
“Good morning, love. I was hoping to catch you before you left. You’re going to see the children today, aren’t you?”
“I don’t think so, Charles. It’s raining and we made a huge casserole yesterday. I think I’ll give the children a day to themselves.”
“What will you do?”
“I’d like to do some sewing. A new quilting retreat started yesterday and I talked to the instructor about using one of their machines. She offered to have a portable brought up to my room. I thought I’d do something with the fabric I had left over from my project.”
Sarah was still debating whether to tell him about the letter from the children’s aunt, and she didn’t know why she was hesitant. “What are your plans for the day?” she asked.
“I’m heading back up the mountain to Mickelson’s. I spent the night in a motel on the outskirts of Beaver Creek and I started writing everything we know about Richard and his possible whereabouts. It only took three lines. I spent most of my time thinking about why the foreman would lie about how Abernathy left. If the foreman’s ly
ing, they must be covering up something, and all I can come up with is that maybe Abernathy was in some sort of accident on the site, and they’re covering it up to avoid an investigation.”
“Or maybe he learned something they didn’t want him to know,” Sarah suggested.
Again, Sarah had beat him to the draw. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he responded, somewhat dumbfounded. What’s happening to my investigative powers?
Sarah wasn’t surprised when he said that. She had noticed some subtle changes in him lately. She hoped it was just because their routine had been disrupted, but she vowed to get him to his doctor as soon as they returned home.
And that’s the reason I’m hesitant to burden him with the letter, she told herself, suddenly understanding her unconscious motivation. I’ll handle this one myself.
After they hung up, Sarah dressed and went downstairs for breakfast. Another quilt retreat was just beginning and the room was filled with excited quilters. She felt right at home. After breakfast, she went into the lounge where there was a coffee machine, several vending machines with sodas and snacks, and two computers, both on and ready to use.
She pulled the envelope out of her pocket and opened a search engine. She typed in Rosalie Burns, Portland, Oregon and a record popped up for a Jackson Burns with a forty-four year old associate named Rosalie. She clicked for more details and there was the address from the envelope. And now she had the phone number.
Fascinated with how quickly she was able to find Rosalie, she decided to try her own name. Not only did the search engine go directly to her record and announce her age for the whole world to see, but it presented a map of Cunningham Village and an arrow on her house. “There’s no such thing as privacy anymore,” she grumbled as she stood up from the computer.
Back in her room, she pulled out her few scraps of material. She had over a yard left from her border fabric, but only bits and pieces of everything else. Suddenly she had a thought. She hurried downstairs to the manager’s office to speak with Mary Beth’s father, Jack Slocum.
“Mrs. Parker, glad to see you. I’ve been wondering if your husband’s had any luck finding Abernathy.”
Sarah caught him up on what they had each been doing and was sorry to tell him they had made no progress in finding Richard. “We do know where he was working,” she added.
“Where?” he asked with interest.
“Up near Beaver Creek, West Virginia. It’s a strip-mining outfit. …”
“Not Mickelson’s, I hope.”
“You’ve heard of them?”
“Everyone around here has. It’s a shady operation. I’m glad your husband has police connections. He just might need them.
For the first time, Sarah became worried for Charles’ safety. She and Slocum talked briefly about what he had read in the papers and his own suspicions. “They tried to open an operation around here some twenty years ago, but we threw them out. A real shady outfit.”
Sarah felt a knot twisting her stomach as she thought about Charles heading back to the work site.
“So, what can I do for you today?”
For a moment, Sarah forgot why she had come down to his office. The thought of Charles possibly being in danger had pushed her project to the back of her mind. “Oh,” she finally said. “I was wondering if there’s any way to get one more picture printed on fabric. I’m thinking about …”
Slocum interrupted her abruptly saying, “Absolutely. The class we have going on right now is working on that same project. If you give me your picture, I’ll slip it in with the others that we’re transferring to fabric.”
“Wonderful,” Sarah responded but without the enthusiasm she had when she first came up with the idea. “I’ll run up and get the photograph now.”
Once the picture was in Slocum’s hand, she hurried back upstairs and dialed Charles’ cell phone. It went immediately to voice mail.
“Mrs. Burns, my name is Sarah Parker. I’m visiting here in Tennessee and have met the Abernathy children. I’m wondering if …”
“Clara’s children?” she asked. Sarah’s heart sunk, fearing that Rosalie didn’t know of her sister’s death.
There was a deep sigh on the other end of the line. “I keep wondering what to do,” the woman said. “I know Clara is gone; I learned about it from an old friend out there, but …” She hesitated and then asked, “Who are you again?”
Sarah explained who she was and her relationship to the children. She told her about Richard’s disappearance and heard the woman catch her breath. “Those poor children. Who’s taking care of them?”
Sarah told her about Addie May and how she’d been functioning as the mother and homemaker since she was twelve. “That poor child,” Rosalie repeated, over and over. “How are the other two? They’re boys, right?”
“There are two boys, and then there’s the baby,” Sarah said.
“The baby? What baby?” Rosalie sounded confused at the mention of a fourth child.
“She’s not exactly a baby. She’s between two and three, I think. She’s adorable. …”
“How could there be a baby? Didn’t Clara die over two years ago?”
“You don’t know, do you? Clara died in childbirth. The baby lived.”
“Oh my,” the sister sobbed. “What a tremendous burden for little Addie May. Those poor children. What can I do?” Before waiting for an answer, she added, “I’ll come get them and bring them here.”
Sarah hoped she hadn’t poked a hornet’s nest by calling.
“I don’t think they would want to leave their home right now,” Sarah said as carefully as possible. “We’re all hoping Richard will be found soon and back home with his children.”
“He won’t be back,” she announced in an angry tone. “He’s no good, and I tried to tell my sister that before she married him. Now he’s run off and left those children. I was right about him, but Clara wouldn’t listen.” Changing the subject abruptly, she said, “How am I ever going to fit four children into this house …?”
“Wait, please, Mrs. Burns …”
“It’s Rosalie. And your name again?”
I’m Sarah. Sarah Parker. I wanted to explain to you that my husband is a policeman.” She didn’t add that he was retired, “And he’s looking for Richard. We are afraid something has happened to him and my husband, Charles, is following leads right now. I know the children wouldn’t want to leave until they find out something about their father.”
Rosalie was quiet. “Well,” she said reluctantly. “Maybe I could wait until we know more if you’re sure they’re okay.”
“I’m keeping a close eye on them, and I’ll be able to stay on here for a few weeks. How about we just stay in close contact, and I’ll keep you informed about what’s happening. I can’t tell you how happy I am to find that there’s family. These children are so afraid of being separated and put into the foster care system.”
“That will never happen,” Rosalie assured her. “If they need a home, they’ll have one here in Portland. I owe it to my sister.”
* * * * *
“Sophie, your timing couldn’t have been better! I’m so glad to hear your voice.”
“I’ve been trying to call your cell, but nothing goes through.”
“Reception up here is terrible. Since we’re staying on, we’re just using the hotel phone.”
“So,” Sophie began. “What’s this about my perfect timing?”
Sarah began talking and hardly stopped to take a breath. She told Sophie about the children, about the shady operation and her fears for Charles, about the sister, and …
“Hold on, kiddo,” Sophie interrupted. “You’re overwhelming me. Let’s go back to the shady operation. Tell me all about that and how it involves Charles.”
Sarah slowed down and explained why Charles was in Beaver Creek and what had happened so far. She also told her about Slocum’s suspicions and her own concerns for Charles. “He’s on his way back to the worksite now to confront the
m. I’m so worried.”
“He’s a big boy, Sarah. He can handle folks like that.”
Sarah didn’t find much solace in Sophie’s words. “I’m just worried about him, Sophie. He hasn’t been quite himself since he got here.”
“Tell me about the kids,” Sophie said, changing the subject to something she thought would be more pleasant for Sarah. As it turned out, she was right. Sarah became very animated as she talked about the children, especially Addie May.
“The little one is called Baby Girl and is just adorable, but because she’s the youngest, the other kids treat her like a baby doll. I don’t know if they’ll ever let her grow up,” she said laughing.
“What about school?”
“Well, that’s an issue no one is addressing just yet. They haven’t been to school since the father disappeared and didn’t go regularly even before that. …”
“Aren’t the authorities concerned?”
“I’m not sure there are authorities up here in the mountains. I do know that Addie May is worried about them getting separated and sent to foster homes, so she is probably playing it safe. She’s taught the boys to read though and some simple math. She hasn’t been to school herself since her mother died, what with the new baby and the chores.”
“Whew. You really got yourself into a muddle up there, didn’t you?”
“It’s not all bad, Sophie. I’ve come to love these kids and, with any luck, this is going to work out. At least I’ve found a relative in Oregon, an aunt, who will take them if all else fails.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I’ve been picturing you coming home with four children to add to your menagerie. By the way, how are those creatures of yours getting along?”
“Charles has been keeping up with the home front. Andy and Caitlyn are taking care of them. Barney is staying at Andy’s house, but Boots chose to hold down the fort at home. By the way, could you walk up to Andy’s and see how Barney is doing? I know he wonders what’s happened to us.”
Moon Over the Mountain Page 11
