Home to Walnut Ridge

by Diane Moody

  “There’s an old family Bible with that sort of thing, but I think it’s up in the attic.”

  “Probably not the best time for us to be rooting around up there,” he said, carefully picking up the note again.

  “I guess you’re right.” Tracey hopped down from the stool. Maybe I can look for it in the morning.”

  “Have you got a Ziploc bag we could put this in? We should probably try to keep it as sterile as possible.”

  She pulled a plastic bag from a drawer and opened it for him to drop the parchment in. “Hey, I bet Mrs. Sadie over at the library would have some old records. She’s quite the historian.”

  He followed her out to the back porch. “Should we take her the cup and saucer?”

  She sat back down, tucking her feet under her as she picked up her laptop. “I suppose. But I’m not sure I can wait. Let’s see if we can find out something about the china.” She looked up at him. “Are you in a hurry?”

  “No. Are you sure you don’t mind me sticking around?”

  “Not at all. We’re in this thing together, right?”

  “Yes, I suppose we are,” he said, smiling. “In which case, do you mind if I‍—‍?” He motioned to the sofa beside her so he could see the laptop screen.

  “Have a seat.” As he sat down, she caught a whiff of his cologne and decided it suited him. After powering up her laptop, the screen came to life. A chat screen popped up. Morgan: Trace, are you there? She quickly closed the chat and felt her face warm.

  “If you need to answer that, I can go,” Noah said, starting to get up.

  Tracey grabbed his sleeve and pulled him back. “No need. Now let’s see. What should I Google‌—‌teacup?”

  Noah leaned back, wondering why she hadn’t answered the chat notice from her boss. It seemed a little odd that a U.S. Senator would use chat to communicate with his staff. Then again, what do I know?

  “Try using Google Images first,” he said. “That way you’ll see the pictures, not just a listing.”

  “Okay.”

  “And type in ‘teacup with eagle crest’ and see what you get.”

  The monitor filled with pictures of all kinds of teacups, teacup-sized puppies, crests, and even a teacup-sized piglet or two.

  “This is going to take forever,” Tracey mumbled, scrolling through the images.

  “Stop,” Noah said, placing his hand on hers over the mouse. “Scroll back up.”

  “Why? What did you see?”

  “Do you mind if I take the mouse for a moment?”

  She took her hand off the device. “Sure. But tell me what you‍—‍”

  “There,” he said, clicking on an image. As an enlarged image filled the screen, he slowly turned his face toward hers. “We’re going about this all wrong.”

  “What?” she asked, meeting his eyes.

  Intensely aware of her closeness, he reached up and gently turned her face back toward the screen. “That.”

  “Okay, it’s a‌—‌oh my gosh,” she croaked, turning to face him again. “It’s a presidential seal?”

  He smiled. “Yes, it is. Now keep that thought. If the note we found from your great-great-great-uncle-Craggie is authentic, and the date is right . . .” He arched his eyebrows encouraging her to connect the dots.

  She gasped, both hands flying to her cheeks. “It’s . . . it’s‍—‍”

  “It’s entirely possible that teacup and saucer over there came from the White House.” He paused. “Which was occupied at the time by‍—‍”

  “ABRAHAM LINCOLN!”

  He laughed out loud, cupping his hand over her mouth. “Well, yes, but must you announce it to the whole world?”

  Tracey grasped his hand over her mouth and drew it away. “Abraham Lincoln could have sipped tea from that cup?!” she whisper-squealed.

  “Yes, I think that’s entirely possible.”

  He couldn’t take his eyes off her. The discovery may have been breathtaking, but no more so than the young woman sitting beside him. From the moment he met her, Noah had been intrigued. Her quiet confidence. Her warm and ready smile creating the perfect frame for eyes the color of dark caramel. Her hair‌—‌a deep, rich brunette, always shining, reaching well below her shoulders.

  As she stared into his eyes, he could tell her mind was far away. “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  “I’m imagining a much older version of the White House. I’m there in the State Dining Room where President and Mrs. Lincoln are hosting their guests. And everyone’s seated at decorated tables, all set with this same china.” He watched as she blinked back to the present.

  “Then again,” he said quietly.

  “Yes?”

  He tipped his forehead down to touch hers. “Then again, it could have been Mary Todd.”

  “Mary Todd?”

  “Mrs. Lincoln. She could have sipped from that cup over there, not Abe.”

  “Ah.”

  Their eyes seemed locked on one another . . . and then the moment passed.

  “Yes, well‌—‌” she said.

  “Yes, well,” he echoed as she turned her attention back to the screen.

  “May I?” She reached for the mouse.

  “Sure. Fine. Absolutely.” He slid it over to her.

  He watched as she keyed in Lincoln china pattern, then hit ENTER. The familiar images filled row after row of the exact same pattern.

  “Whoa!” Noah leaned back. “I can’t believe it!”

  Tracey’s smile widened as she glanced at him in utter shock. “Unbelievable,” she whispered.

  For the next half hour, they followed a cyber rabbit trail of pictures and information about the Lincoln china. They learned that the crest on the actual plates and bowls and platters was more detailed than the one on the teacups‌—‌a lower arc of clouds on the bottom half of the design; the nation’s motto, “E pluribus unum” written on floating ribbons against the clouds; an arc of clouds edged by sunlight above the eagle’s head and wings. They talked over each other, pointing out this anecdote and that, comparing one picture with another.

  After Noah grew quiet, Tracey paused. “I’ve worn you out, haven’t I?”

  “Not at all. This is fascinating, and I’m anxious to find out how a cup and saucer from the Lincoln White House ended up in your smokehouse.”

  “Well, yes, there’s that,” she said with a tired smile.

  Noah stood. “But I’ve got an early morning, and I need to get some rest.”

  She set the laptop aside and followed him to the back door. “I hadn’t even noticed the fire died out. Some hostess I am.”

  He pushed open the screen door and turned to look back at the fireplace. “It’s nice back here. I’ve always enjoyed my visits with Buddy out here when he builds a fire.”

  “I’m sure Dad’s fires never die out.”

  “No, but you’ll get the hang of it. Just takes practice.”

  “I’ll try to remember that.”

  “It was fun. Thanks, Tracey. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He let the door tap shut behind him. “Next time I’ll try to remember my dog collar.” He mimed the noisy collar. “Lots of bells.”

  “Please do. And I’ll try not to jump when I hear them.”

  “Good night, Tracey.”

  “Good night, Noah.”

  Chapter 8

  At breakfast the next morning, it was just the three of them again. Tracey couldn’t wait to tell her father and Alex about the amazing discovery she and Noah had made last night. She’d brought the cup and saucer into the kitchen, setting them on the table beside her. Knowing they’d want to see for themselves, she’d also brought her laptop along. When the moment came, she enlarged the photo of the Lincoln china and spun the screen around so they could see it.

  “Ta da!”

  “Oh. My. GOSH!” Alex cried.

  Buddy pulled the laptop closer to him. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!” He tilted his head up so he could view it through the readers perched on hi
s nose. “Well, for the love of Pete! Sure enough‌—‌there it is. Tracey Jo, how’d you find out? How’d you even know where to look?”

  “I was studying the pieces when Noah stopped by last night, and he suggested we do a Google Image search. Then he‍—‍”

  “Wait, Noah came by?” Alex asked, with raised brows. Like her father, she turned to look at Tracey through her half-glasses.

  “He came over after you guys went to bed. I was out on the back porch, and he said he saw the light on. Apparently he was curious about the pieces too, but‌—‌OH! I completely forgot! Tracey jumped up and stuck her hand into the pocket of her robe. She carefully removed the Ziploc containing the note they’d found. “You will not believe this!”

  They leaned closer. “What is it?”

  “It’s a note! Last night as I was unwrapping the cloth from the saucer, it fell out. I guess when we unwrapped it before, it must have stuck to the cloth. Or maybe we never completely unrolled the rest of it. Doesn’t matter. Look at this.”

  “What’s it say?” Buddy asked.

  “It says, ‘For safe-keeping until the war is over.’ Then it’s signed with the initials CJC. But look at the date‌—‌1863!”

  Alex leaned closer, her hand over the faded letters and numbers. “Are you sure? It’s so faded, how can you be sure?”

  Tracey stepped over to the kitchen drawer and pulled out the magnifying glass. “Here.”

  Alex and Buddy crowded over the small piece of parchment, both looking through the magnified glass. “Oh. My. GOSH!” Alex gasped for the second time. “Dad! Look! She’s right. It says 1863 just as clear as day!”

  He leaned back and pushed the readers up on his head. “This is unbelievable, Tracey Jo! But who’s CJC? Obviously a Collins, but‍—‍”

  “I don’t know and that’s exactly why I’m climbing up in the attic as soon as I finish breakfast. Are all those old trunks and boxes still up there?”

  “A few, but we donated most of the documents and letters to the library,” Alex said, still bent over studying the note.

  “What about the old family Bible? Is it still up there?”

  “Yes, but I know it doesn’t go back to the mid-1800s. Check with Sadie over at the library. She probably has it all documented and categorized. This kind of thing is right up her alley.”

  Alex finally leaned back. “Oh, she’ll have a ball with this. Why don’t we take this and the pieces over to her as soon as we get dressed? The library doesn’t open until nine, but she’s always over there by seven.”

  “Perfect! But don’t you need to work at the smokehouse with the guys today, Alex?”

  “No,” their father answered instead. “It’s mostly just grunt work at this stage, so the Elders can handle it. In fact, a few more of the guys are coming out today. Besides, I’ve got to go to City Hall and file all the permits and have a nice little chat with my favorite demon‌—‌I mean, deacon.” He rolled his eyes and downed the last of his coffee.

  “You need back up? Alex and I can go with you. Better yet, take the Elders. They scared him off yesterday, maybe they’ll have the same effect today.”

  “No, this is between Deacon and me. And the lovely Miss Faye. Don’t you girls worry about it. All that to say, the guys can handle the work today. Alex, I’ll let you know if we need you. Y’all go on and see what you can find out from Sadie over at the library.”

  Alex stood up, gathering their dishes. “Will do, Dad.”

  “And whatever you do, don’t drop the cup and saucer! Those must be worth a fortune!”

  “He’s right, Trace. We should probably find something more secure to put them in. Heavens, if I’d known these were Lincoln’s, I’d never have let Noah carry them in my backpack. I’ll see what I can find. I’ll clean up, so you go on and get dressed.”

  Dad took the dishes from her. “No, I’ll clean up so you two can get ready. Go on, scoot.”

  Alex kissed his bearded cheek. “You’re the best. Thanks, Dad.”

  Tracey pecked his other cheek then headed for the stairs. “Love you, Dad.”

  After she showered and dried her hair, Tracey dashed on a little make-up. As she waved the wand of mascara over her lashes, she saw the face of her cell phone light up. She’d kept the tone on silent, so she’d missed all of Morgan’s calls over the past couple of days. But this time it was Amanda’s number that flashed. She reached for her cell, then stopped herself, slowly pulling her hand back.

  “Amanda, I know we need to talk but not now,” she said aloud. Returning to her make-up, she felt the familiar uneasiness. Just because she’d left Washington and thrown herself into her home and family life didn’t mean she’d forgotten all she’d left behind. She couldn’t imagine how Morgan must be handling it. And truth be told, she didn’t really want to know.

  But Amanda was a different story. She promised herself she’d either email her or call her soon. Just not yet.

  As Tracey and Alex made the short walk from Walnut Ridge to the library, Noah slowed his Harley to a stop after spotting them on Main Street. He told them he was headed up to Nashville to order supplies for the renovation.

  “I’ll be anxious to hear what you find out. I’ll stop by later today to hear what you learned.”

  “Come for dinner,” Alex said. “I put a roast in the crockpot earlier.”

  “Sounds good. But only if you let me bring dessert.”

  Alex shielded her eyes from the morning sun. “You baking or buying?”

  “Very funny. No time today, so I’ll pick up something in town.”

  “Drive safe,” Tracey said as he put his helmet back on.

  “I always do. Later, ladies.”

  As he took off, Tracey watched over her shoulder until he drove out of sight. He looked completely different in his black leather jacket with that big black helmet on his head. Different in a good way, she thought. I wouldn’t mind taking a ride in that seat behind him . . . When she turned back around, her sister was staring at her.

  “What?”

  “Did I say anything?”

  “No.”

  “Well, there you go,” Alex answered. “Oh look, there’s Sadie’s car in the parking lot.”

  Sadie Woolsey smiled as she unlocked the door to let them in. “How lovely to see you girls this morning. Come in, come in!”

  Tracey had always loved the little log cabin that housed the town’s library. The large paper maché tree towering over the children’s section had always reminded her of The Giving Tree, one of her childhood favorites. On the other side of the room, a large fireplace warmed the cozy atmosphere and invited readers to have a seat in one of the rocking chairs before the hearth. And all around them, rows of shelves stood filled with books. She’d spent many a happy afternoon here when she was young. Good memories.

  “Tracey Jo, I heard you were back for a visit. How are you?”

  She placed her laptop bag carefully on the table then gave the elderly woman a hug. “I’m fine, Miss Woolsey. It’s good to see you.”

  “How’s our fine senator? We’re all so proud of you up there in Washington. People say you’re his right-hand man‌—‌I mean, right-hand girl, of course. Must be quite an honor to work with Senator Thompson.”

  Tracey forced a tight smile. “I suppose you’re right, but let me tell you why we’re here.” Then, while explaining yesterday’s find in the smokehouse wall, she and Alex carefully opened the bag where, instead of a laptop, the cup and saucer were each secured in bubble-wrap. They unwound the wrap, revealing the two pieces.

  “My goodness, what have we here?” Sadie asked, picking up the teacup.

  Tracey filled her in on last night’s research. Holding the cup, she turned it so the presidential seal faced the librarian. “And that’s when we put two and two together and realized‌—‌these were from Abraham Lincoln’s White House china service.”

  “What?!” she gasped, dropping into the chair behind her. “You can’t be serious!”

&
nbsp; Tracey found the eighty-year-old’s expression utterly priceless‌—‌her eyes wide open, her hand to her chest, the other on her rouge-dusted cheek. Alex had once commented how much Sadie Woolsey resembled the old-lady version of Kate in the movie, Titanic. At the time, Sadie had far fewer wrinkles than the actress. Now, her pale, paper-thin skin seemed crinkled enough they could be twins.

  “It’s true,” Alex said, digging the Ziploc out of the bag’s inside pocket. “But that’s just the beginning.” She placed the clear bag on the table in front of Sadie. “The real mystery is who put it there and why.”

  “Which is why we need your help,” Tracey added.

  With the help of the magnifying glass they’d brought along, they discussed the note, its date and initials.

  “Oh my goodness, it’s almost too much to comprehend,” she said, leaning back in her chair, her hands clasped like those of a child in prayer. “It’s as if the Holy Grail is right here in our grasp.”

  “Miss Sadie, are you okay?” Tracey asked. “Can I bring you some water?”

  “Oh dear, no, I’m fine. Just a little shocked. To think that our dear President Abraham Lincoln could have sipped tea from this very cup . . .” She shook her head in disbelief.

  Alex and Tracey laughed. “We’ve had that same thought. It’s pretty surreal, isn’t it?”

  Sadie sat up straight. “Girls, you must secure these,” she said in a hushed voice. “If anyone knew you had something so valuable, you could be robbed!”

  “Oh, I doubt anything like that‍—‍”

  “No, it’s true! I read emails from my friends all the time about how easily thieves can get into your home using nothing more than a credit card. And another one told how they case your house, so you should always put your lights on timers and leave the TV on so they think someone’s home.” She punctuated the information with a knowing nod.

  Tracey and Alex shared a smile. “We’ll look into that, Miss Sadie. But what about these initials‌—‌CJC?” Alex asked, pointing back at the note. “We assume it’s someone in our family, one of our ancestors. But Dad said you have most of the Collins family documents in your archives here.”