by Becky Durfee
“Greg’s going to kill me,” she sang under her breath as she punched in her ATM code. “Greg’s going to kill me. Greg’s going to kill me.” The machine spit out fifteen twenty dollar bills, and she quickly got in her car and headed to Kyle Buchanan’s office.
Jenny handed the money over to Kyle, who said, “Ms. Whitby is living in a nursing home about forty minutes from here in Lumberton. The name of the place is Maple Estates. I have the address here for you.” He handed Jenny a piece of paper. “She seemed eager to meet you. She said she doesn’t get a lot of visitors these days, and she’s excited to tell you about the old place. It seems she still has her wits about her, luckily for you.”
Jenny smiled, eager to excuse herself and get home before Greg got suspicious. “That’s great. Thank you so much.”
“My pleasure,” Kyle said. “I wish all of my cases were this easy. And pleasant.”
Jenny imagined he found himself in the middle of more messy divorces than anyone ought to be, and she surmised he meant what he said. With a handshake she left his office and ran out to her car, trying to formulate an excuse as to why a routine grocery store trip took so long.
Greg did indeed ask why she was gone so long, and Jenny muttered the explanation she’d come up with on the way home. Being new to the area had its advantages. “Promise you won’t laugh?” she said. “I got lost on the way home.” She stuck out her lip, playing the damsel in distress. “I think the ice cream is melted.”
He let out a snort. “Why didn’t you just use your GPS? You have it on your phone…”
“I know,” she said, “but I wanted to get home by intuition. Sometimes the best way to learn a new area is to get lost in it.”
Jenny felt somewhat guilty as she unloaded the groceries. She hated lying to him, feeling strangely unfaithful, but she also felt that he’d given her no choice. Had he been supportive, she wouldn’t have had to be so secretive. In an ideal world, she could be sharing her excitement with him.
She decided she’d visit Elanor the next day, and then be honest with Greg about where she was when she returned. She was hoping to come back with some show-stopping news that would bring him on board, making him more understanding of why she’d felt the need to pursue this in the first place. With any luck, by the following evening, Greg would be just as excited about this as she was.
Chapter 4
March, 1964
Unable to sleep, Elanor crept out onto the deck of her house that overlooked Lake Wimsat. The night was unseasonably warm, and the gentle breeze felt invigorating. The lake always gave her an inexplicable sense of serenity, even at her darkest moments. She reflected back to a time seven years earlier when this lake had been witness to the heartbreak of a kind, love struck young boy. She wondered where Ronald was now, hoping he was happy. She didn’t regret her relationship with him, nor did she regret ending it. However, she did regret the way she ended it. She should have had the courage to break up with him sooner. She still suffered pangs of guilt about that, but no amount of guilt could change the past. The best she could do was make sure she never repeated the same mistake in the future.
She glanced over her shoulder into her bedroom window, wherein lay a wonderful, unsuspecting man who didn’t realize his world was going to be turned upside down in the morning. Although Mike and Ronald had very little in common, the end result was going to be the same…heartbreak at the hands of a woman who, by her own admission, may have been born without a soul.
Mike was everything that Ronald had not been. He was fiercely independent, supportive, and a progressive thinker. He reveled in Elanor’s accomplishments, undaunted by the notion of being with a woman more successful than he was. On paper, Mike had all of the characteristics of a man Elanor should have been willing to marry, but she simply couldn’t bring herself to have anything more than a brotherly love for him. The absence of feeling wasn’t due to lack of effort. For several years she had been going through the motions, believing that if she just played the role, eventually the romantic feelings would surface. However, she couldn’t deny how she felt--or how she didn’t feel--about this man who treated her like she walked on water. Somehow, even the perfect man wasn’t good enough for her.
She wondered if there was something wrong with her—some sort of chemical misfire in her brain that made her unlike every other woman on the planet. At times she had thought about disregarding her feelings and pursuing a life of marriage and children anyway. That lifestyle worked for most women. Why not her? However, she always decided she couldn’t betray herself like that. For whatever reason, she was programmed to march to a beat of a different drummer. She was destined to walk the earth alone. That notion was fine for her; she just needed to stop leaving a series of broken-hearted men in her wake.
She placed her elbows on the railing of the deck and rested her head in her hands. She was dreading the task the morning would bring, but she had become painfully aware of Mike’s increased presence at her house. He was apparently becoming quite comfortable sleeping over, and she sensed that soon he’d be expecting the relationship to progress to a level she couldn’t accommodate. Desperate to avoid another ill-fated marriage proposal, she knew she had to initiate a break up. She only hoped he hadn’t already purchased a ring.
She looked down at her bare finger, wondering if this was going to be a decision she would ultimately regret. She placed her hand on her belly which, because of her own doing, would never bear children. This lifestyle suited her now, but what about when she was older? With no siblings, no spouse, and no children, she would truly grow old alone. Would she be consumed with regret then? Would she look back at this moment, desperately wishing she could take back her decision to let an amazing man walk out of her life? Was she about to make a giant mistake?
She let out a sigh, knowing she’d already answered these questions for herself. She was just experiencing last-minute jitters. She took one last look out at the lake, admiring how beautiful it looked when illuminated by moonlight, feeling that familiar sense of calm the lake always brought her. This was indeed for the best…for everybody. Mike was a phenomenal man, deserving of a woman who was madly in love with him; if Elanor wasn’t that woman, she had to let him go. By allowing fear to get the better of her, she’d be condemning Mike to a compromised life, and she cared about him too much to allow that.
She returned to her bedroom and slid under the sheets next to Mike. He didn’t stir as she wrapped her arm around him and held him for the last time. Part of her would miss this—miss him—but not enough to justify living a fraudulent life. For now she would just enjoy the rhythmic sound of his breathing and cherish these last moments in the company of a man.
She knew she couldn’t do this anymore. She couldn’t break any more hearts. This had to be the last man she’d allow herself to become close to.
Chapter 5
2013
The following day Jenny seized the opportunity while Greg was at the hardware store to simply leave a note on the table. “Be back later,” it said, with no other explanation offered. She turned off her phone to avoid the third degree, clutched the directions to Maple Estates in her hand, and headed off to Lumberton.
She was impressed by the facility as she pulled into the parking lot. Clearly this was a place where the wealthy folks spent their final days. She thought of her own future, realizing that a life like this was not in the cards for her. In a way, she felt saddened.
She got out of her car and approached the front door dizzy with excitement. She couldn’t believe what she was doing. What on earth was Elanor going to say when Jenny announced she’d heard mysterious voices saying names—her name among them? The whole scenario was utterly surreal.
Jenny went through the sliding double doors and approached the desk. “I’m here to see Elanor Whitby.”
The woman behind the desk smiled pleasantly and asked Jenny to sign in. “Have you been here before?”
“No, ma’am.”
“I’ll
need a copy of your driver’s license,” she said.
Jenny complied. “The address isn’t current; I just moved here,” Jenny said, providing the woman with her new address. The receptionist made the change to the photocopy of the license. After check-in, Jenny dutifully followed the directions to Elanor’s room. After many twists and turns, she was at last at the door, which stood slightly ajar. She knocked gently heard and a woman’s voice say, “Come in.”
Jenny nudged the door open slowly to see a frail, white-haired woman sitting upright in her adjustable bed. Elanor looked more fragile than Jenny had expected, but a twinkle in her bright blue eyes suggested that Kyle Buchanan had been right when he had said she was still cognizant. Jenny smiled apprehensively at her and asked, “Ms. Whitby?”
“Oh, call me Elanor,” she said enthusiastically. “You must be the young woman who bought my old house! Come in, dear, please. And do tell me your name.”
“Jenny. Jenny Watkins.” She slowly walked through the door, noting the room looked more like an apartment than a nursing home. The walls were a warm honey color as opposed to a sterile white, and the colorful curtains matched the upholstery of the recliner and loveseat in the corner. She had her own kitchen area and a giant flat screen television on the far wall. Without realizing it, Jenny had frozen as she looked around the room.
“Have a seat, dear, please.” Elanor gestured toward the recliner. “Actually, can you pull it over here closer? My eyes and ears aren’t what they used to be.”
Jenny slid the recliner over next to the bed and sat stiffly on the edge.
“So…please…tell me a little about yourself,” Elanor began.
Jenny smiled politely. “Well, like I said, my name is Jenny. I’m twenty-six; I’m married, and I am a teacher.”
“A teacher! How wonderful. What grade do you teach?”
“I taught second grade back in Kentucky, where we’re from, but this year I got a job teaching fourth grade at Evansdale Elementary.”
“That’s fabulous. I have the utmost respect for anyone who can work with kids. I like kids, but only from a comfortable distance. Do you like teaching?”
“Most days,” Jenny admitted. “Some days are tougher than others. I never realized how hard it would be.”
“I’m sure it is hard. Y’all are an underpaid bunch, that’s for sure. But I’m glad you like your job. I was fortunate enough to love mine. In fact, I loved it to the point where it didn’t even feel like work.”
“You ran Choices magazine, right?”
“Sure did! And I often put in eighty hour weeks, so it’s a good thing I enjoyed it.”
“Wow,” Jenny marveled, “that’s crazy.”
“You know what else is crazy?” Elanor asked with a mischievous grin. “Buying that house you bought. I admit I haven’t seen it in a while, but the last time I drove by it, it looked like a shit hole. What on earth possessed you to buy that thing?”
Jenny laughed, sinking slightly back into her chair. “My husband and I are planning to fix it up and then sell it in a few years for a profit. We’re going to use that money to start a family.”
“Good for you, although you’ve got your work cut out for you. I can’t believe how bad it looks. It’s a shame, too, because it was a beautiful house once upon a time.”
“My husband and I were just saying that the other day.”
“Do you know the story of how that house came to be?”
“No,” Jenny replied, hopeful that the story would help unravel the mystery of Steve O’dell. “But I’d love to hear it.”
“In order to understand how it came to be, you first have to realize that Whitby money was old money. Very old money. And there was lots of it. You know how they say some people are born with a silver spoon in their mouths? Well, my father had flatware for eight.” Elanor scratched her head. “Looking back on it, it boggles my mind when I think how high-and-mighty my father used to act because he was rich, yet he hadn’t done a damn thing to earn any of that money. All he did was get born to the right parents.” She shook her head in disgust. After a moment she snapped back into the present and said, “Listen to me, rambling like this. If I’m not careful I’m going to turn into one of the people that wander the halls around here, wearing my underwear outside of my pants and muttering about the war and some other shit that doesn’t make any sense.”
Jenny bit her lip to keep from laughing.
“Anyway, my mother was a working-class girl from Evansdale, but she was a beauty. Inside and out. One summer when she was a teenager she went up to Virginia to be a nanny for her aunt and uncle, and she met my father there. Apparently he fell for her pretty hard, because when she went back to Evansdale at the end of the summer, my father followed her. Shortly after that they were married. That was 1928.
“As you probably know, the stock market crashed the following year, but my lucky bastard of a father wasn’t that hard hit by it. He was a money-in-the-mattress kind of man, so he didn’t have a whole lot invested in stocks. While everyone else lost their shirts, my parents were pretty much untouched.
“But my mother was horrified at what happened to the people of her town. They were good people, the people of Evansdale, and many of them didn’t even know where their next meal was coming from. She begged my father to help, but he didn’t believe in handouts, so he commissioned the construction of the house. It took a long time to build, and it employed a lot of people in the process. My mother even hired some of the local women to sew custom curtains and bedding. That house put food on a lot of people’s tables, and my parents were beloved in the community because of it.”
“That’s fascinating,” Jenny said genuinely. “I had no idea the house had such history.”
“I’m sure you wondered, though, why such a big house was built right smack dab in the center of a middle class neighborhood. You have to admit, that house sticks out like a sore thumb.”
“Yes, it does, actually.”
“You know what’s funny, though? My dad had this whole big house built with lots of bedrooms so he could fill them with boys to carry on his precious family name…and what did he have? One girl.” Elanor chuckled. “I bet he was shooting blanks.”
Jenny opened her mouth to say something, but only a tiny sound came out.
“You know what’s even funnier?” Elanor added. “I didn’t even go on to have any kids. When I die, this branch of the Whitby family tree dies with me. You know what that is? That’s karma, kicking my dad in the ass. I’m not really religious or anything, but I can’t help but think this is somebody’s way of telling my dad to shut the hell up and quit bragging about shit he didn’t earn.”
For a moment Jenny questioned if she was in a nursing home or a truck stop, but she was amused nonetheless. In her house growing up, only the boys were allowed to speak with such indiscretion. To hear it from a woman—and an elderly woman at that—was humorous indeed.
“But I guess a lesson on my family history isn’t what you’re here for, now is it?” Elanor continued, “I imagine you’d like to hear about what the house used to look like.”
Jenny leaned forward in her chair again. “Well,” she began uncomfortably, “there’s actually another reason why I’m here.”
“Oh? What is that, dear?”
Jenny let out a sigh, unsure of how to proceed. “I’m wondering if the name Steve O’dell means anything to you.”
Elanor froze. “Did you say Steve O’dell?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Do you know him? Did he send you here?” Elanor asked eagerly.
“Well, no.” Jenny shook her head, sighing again, painfully aware of the ridiculousness of her next words. “Ever since I moved into that house, I’ve heard a voice. The first two times it said Steve O’dell, and then the third time it said your name.”
Elanor seemed shocked. “A voice said my name? And Steve’s?”
“I know it sounds strange, but yes.” Jenny winced, preparing to hear that she was ou
t of line and needed to leave. However, those words never came, so after a short while she delicately continued. “I assume from your reaction that you know him.”
“I did.” Elanor seemed distant as she spoke. “A long time ago.”
Did. That word didn’t get lost on Jenny, who became suddenly aware that she may have brought up a touchy subject. Unsure of what to say next, Jenny sat silent, allowing Elanor to continue at her own pace.
“He was my boyfriend back when I was young. We were desperately in love, or so I thought. One weekend I went away, and when I came back he was gone. He’d apparently left town without saying goodbye or anything.” Elanor lowered her eyes, her pain still evident after all these years.
“Did you ever see him again?”
“No,” Elanor said sadly. “It’s as if he vanished into thin air.”
Things began to click, albeit slightly, inside Jenny’s brain. There was something she was supposed to be figuring out. Suddenly she felt markedly less foolish for being there.
“I did hear one other message that may mean something to you, if you’d care to hear it.”
Elanor snapped to attention. “Oh, yes, please.”
“I heard good day, ma’am.”
Elanor raised her hand to cover her mouth as tears welled in her eyes. “That was our code,” she said weakly. “I’d almost forgotten…”
Aware of the gravity of the situation, Jenny reduced her voice to a whisper. “Code for what?”
“I love you,” Elanor said, staring off into space. “We kept our relationship a secret because we knew my parents wouldn’t approve. The way he told me he loved me in public was to nod his head at me and say good day, ma’am. I would reply with good day as well, and that was my way of saying I loved him too.”
Jenny had a million questions, but she knew she couldn’t bombard Elanor with too much at once. Elanor looked frail enough as it was; Jenny certainly didn’t want to upset her any more than she already had.