The police made amends for their mistake, and Pastor Lett, being the good woman that she was, accepted their apologies and forgave them, thankful that Rodney had not perished. The community rallied around her when she’d made the announcement at the church that Rodney had lived. Edie and Jin were beside themselves with joy. Edie told Pastor Lett that she had known he was alive, and that Pastor Lett had told her about him many years earlier, although she didn’t remember ever doing so. It brought great pleasure to Pastor Lett to have both Rodney and William welcomed into the community, though she was taken aback by her own feelings, feelings of anger toward the community that had once accused her brother of such a heinous crime and toward Harley Mott, Mac Peterson, and Joe Dillon, the men who had beaten him, but God took care of those feelings, reminding her of forgiveness, of what she had asked for with regard to William. He certainly worked in mysterious ways.
It had been a hard decision for Pastor Lett not to bring Rodney home to live with her, but Betty had felt very strongly that moving him from her home, where he’d lived for the past twenty years, would cause great conflict within him. In the end, she’d given in, leaving Rodney to reside with Newton and Betty, where she was certain that Rodney was not only cared for but was happy. Molly and Rodney had established an even stronger connection in the past few weeks. She visited Rodney with Pastor Lett every Tuesday, and he continued to lift her up off of the ground and spin her as if it were the first time he had ever seen her.
Hannah’s confession about her baby, Clara Ann—her birth, and her death—had come as a surprise to Pastor Lett, and sadness weighed heavily in her heart as she watched her friend across the room. She still couldn’t imagine the guilt that must have eaten at Hannah every day, living with her child being buried in the woods—like an animal. Newton had, once again, done something remarkable. The headstone he’d had made to mark Clara Ann’s passing had gone unnoticed for all those years, waiting for her little body to join it. Pastor Lett hoped that all those years of guilt and hiding had been put to rest with the moving of Clara Ann’s body to the church cemetery. She thought of the memorial service that had taken place just days earlier, and she thought she saw a softening of Hannah’s face, around her eyes, as she looked in her direction.
Pastor Lett turned toward the sound of laughter. Newton and Betty were busy stringing popcorn, which they had been threading for the last week. They giggled like schoolchildren, laughing at a secret that only the two of them knew. Betty reached down and kissed his cheek, her hand as pale as a dove against his dark skin. He blushed and touched her hand. Pastor Lett didn’t think she could have made it through each of the difficult years, all of the trying times, without Newton by her side. He’d made things bearable for her, often reminding her why it was that she was taking care of William, and just how much the family relied on her, and how one day, it would all work out for the best. He had been right. God bless him. Pastor Lett leaned against the wall and watched Newton with Betty, his Member’s Only jacket still zipped up tight to his chin, even though he was inside the house. Thinking of the old joke, He’s got to be the last member! brought a smile to her lips. She felt a little like a voyeur and turned away to allow them privacy. A soft knock at the door pulled her in that direction. Molly, Cole, and Erik stood before her carrying Poinsettias and brownies.
Molly handed her a large wrapped box which had been hidden behind her back, and which she would later discover held four large bags of sunflower seeds. She embraced her. “So good to see you,” she said.
Rodney heard her voice and lumbered across the floor, his speed in great contrast to his size. He pulled Molly away from his sister and picked her up, swinging her around, laughing, “Molly come! Molly see Rodney!”
She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. Rodney blushed.
At that moment, Pastor Lett felt as though she were complete: the secrets were out, and she could live each day in happiness, with no more midnight canoe rides, no more locks and chains. At that thought, she glanced toward the front door, next to which hung her old neck chain and keys. She kept them as a reminder of her own weaknesses as a human, but was glad to be relieved of their weight.
When Sal and Mike arrived at the party, Molly was dancing with Cole, her cheek pressed against his chest, their bodies moving in perfect sync. Molly felt a hand on her shoulder before she heard his voice.
“May I cut in?” Mike’s voice swept into her ears, and she envisioned his boyish smile.
Cole handed her over to him.
“So,” Mike said, as they eased into their dance, “how have you been?”
“Great, and you?”
“Okay. This is a hard time for me,” he admitted.
Molly looked into his sad eyes, eyes that she was sure his wife must have longed to stay with as she took her last and final breath. “I know. I’m glad you’re here,” Molly said. They had become close, and Molly felt that he needed a family to spend the holidays with.
“Did Sal tell you the news?”
Molly shook her head.
“We got the DNA results back. Kate is in fact Kate Plummer, and the two bodies, they were definitely Walter Meeks’s wife and daughter, Maribelle and Leah. We just got the call this morning. And the Boyds Boys, as you so kindly call them, have been taken into custody.”
Molly was saddened by the news of the Boyds Boys. She had held out hope that they weren’t the ones who had beaten Rodney.
Molly watched Cole from across the room. His mouth barely moved as he spoke to Erik. He rested his arm around Erik’s shoulder, and once again Molly knew that she and Cole were meant to be together. The song ended, and she and Mike walked toward them. Both Cole and Erik reached out to Molly. Instantly, she understood why she had fought so hard to find Tracey, why she felt so deeply for Kate, and why she hurt so badly for Amanda and for Walter. A glimmer of true love was an astonishing thing, and if an ounce of it was stolen, the emptiness it left behind, that time of loneliness, that time of despair, could never be relived, never be refilled. It remained forever empty, a hole in the soul. Molly knew that she was safe, she was loved. With Cole’s support she’d never lose her way again.
“So what happens now?” Cole asked.
A coy smile crept across Mike’s face, and he looked at Molly. “Well, you know I’ve been reassigned to the Cold Case Unit.”
Molly’s eyes perked up.
Cole groaned.
Tracey loved Christmas! Her mom made ham and scalloped potatoes, Tracey’s favorite meal. Tracey’s favorite part of Christmas, though, was that she and Emma were allowed to stay up late and watch Christmas movies on television. Tonight, though, they made her sad. She thought of Mummy. She missed her. Tracey had asked her mother if she could give Mummy a present, which her mother had quickly corrected, Kate, Tracey. Her name is Kate. She had been allowed to choose the present herself. Tracey had picked out a doll for Kate, so she would never feel alone again, and so she wouldn’t have to steal some other mother’s little girl. Before wrapping it, she slipped her own necklace, the one with the heart-shaped charm, around the doll’s neck.
Tracey’s mother had said that Kate would not be sent to jail. They’d made a deal with the police, and she would go somewhere to get help. Tracey didn’t understand why Kate needed help, but her mother said that she had been taken from her parents, too, a long, long time ago, and that the woman who raised her underground made her believe in those toxins. Kate needed help to learn the toxins weren’t real. Tracey knew her mother didn’t think the toxins really existed, but she wasn’t so sure. She tried to believe her, but sometimes, like when she’d gotten sick with a bad cold, she worried that she was going to die. Her mother had rushed her to the doctor, who also told Tracey that there were no toxins. She secretly wondered if they just hadn’t known the truth.
When Tracey had first come home, she’d tried to see Kate. She had worried about her every day and didn’t like the idea of her being alone, or with strangers, but every time she asked her m
other if she could see her, her mother would cry. Tracey stopped asking her mother, and asked her father, who told her that her mother would like her to just forget the whole thing, forget her time underground, but Tracey couldn’t forget Kate. Finally, Tracey’s father spoke to the counselor that Tracey had to see every week since coming home, and she said it was okay for Tracey to visit Kate, and that it might even help Tracey gain closure and also assist in Kate’s recovery. Tracey didn’t like the therapist very much because she asked too many questions, but she was happy that she would be allowed to see Kate. She and her mother usually picked up Molly, and together they would drive to see Kate. Kate stayed in a place that felt, to Tracey, like a hospital; every wall was white, and it smelled funny, too, like the stuff her mother used to clean out her cuts. Tracey thought Kate looked prettier now than she used to. She was definitely cleaner, and her eyes lit up whenever Tracey went to visit, like she’d been waiting to see her for a very long time. Tracey liked visiting Kate, and every time they visited, Kate would again apologize for taking Tracey away from her mother and father. Kate’s therapy was helping her to understand why taking Tracey had been a bad thing to do. Tracey was happy that Kate was okay, but she secretly wanted to ask Kate about the toxins. She knew, though, that if she did, it might upset her mother, so she refrained. Tracey didn’t refrain though, one cold December afternoon, from whispering to Kate that she didn’t like the bad spot. Kate had apologized, and cried, so Tracey secretly vowed to never mention that again either.
Sometimes at night, Tracey would close her eyes and try to remember all of the things about her life underground with Mummy, but it was like someone had taken an eraser and erased almost everything. She could remember the dirt floors and walls, and the outside place, but she had trouble remembering what she had done all day and what was in each of the rooms—although she did remember the cart that she’d wanted to use as a baby carriage. Tracey reminded herself to pray for Kate every time she went to church with her family. She couldn’t remember the whole prayer she’d said with Kate, and that bothered her sometimes, but she remembered the last part of it, and at night, when she was alone in her bedroom, she’d close her eyes and pray, “We thank You that when we call upon You, You will answer us, be with us.”
Acknowledgments
It takes special people to provide unending support and unyielding belief. I’d like to thank all of the people who have touched my life over the past few years. Chasing Amanda would not be published if not for Geraldine Solon, who recommended me to Solstice Publishing, and Melissa Miller, for finding my work worthy of her company’s representation.
I could not have written such a strong story without the help of my good friend and editor, Dominique Agnew, or without the help of my trusted beta readers, whom I’m sure I drove crazy with varying renditions of the manuscript: Hilde Alter, Doreen Guarino, Cathy Hunter, Ave Parnell, Maria Meyers, Beth Grimmett, Alison Rotich, and, of course, my husband, Les Foster.
A special thanks goes out to all of my site sisters on The Women’s Nest who have been there for me during the toughest of times, giving me encouragement to continue writing, and providing their opinions along the way: Clare Karstaedt, Sharon Spearo, Jacklyn Reed, Kian Vencill, Linda Markley, Jessie Ford, and so many other warm, encouraging women.
Many of the historical facts about Boyds were relayed to me by Arthur Virts, a man who knows more than one can imagine about his hometown.
Retired Lieutenant Michael Mancuso of the Germantown Police Department was kind enough to answer my questions, and any and all mistakes about police procedures are mine and mine alone.
A hearty thank you to Wayne Bierbaum, Amanda Bergner, and Elizabeth “Bizzy” Seay (and her parents) for taking the perfect cover shot for the novel.
I’d also like to thank my good friends Greg and Dale Cassidy and Brooke Rendzio (and her parents) for all of their help in providing cover options.
Lastly, my family has stood behind me, sometimes laughing at me and other times laughing with me. They’ve helped me to develop scenes, and allowed me to spend endless hours in front of my keyboard. Thank you for loving me enough to see this novel through to publication. I truly believe I’m the luckiest woman on this planet to be blessed with each of you: my mother, Hilde Alter, my husband, Les, and our children, Noah, Zach, Brady, Devyn, Jess, and Jake.
Melissa Foster is the author of two novels, Megan’s Way and Chasing Amanda. She is the founder of the Women’s Nest, a social and support community for women, and is currently collaborating with a director to create a script for Megan’s Way. Melissa is working on her next book, and lives in Maryland with her family.
WWW.MELISSAFOSTER.COM
Cover photography by Wayne Bierbaum
Chasing Amanda Page 32