by J B Hawker
Melissa Choy Gutermann was in her mid-twenties, petite and pretty, with glossy straight black hair and dark almond eyes. She was easily the youngest woman in the room. She looked to be not much older than Judy’s twins, in fact, giving Judy an uncomfortable twinge at the thought of being almost old enough to be this young woman’s mother.
Naidenne was actually a few years younger than Judy, but she seemed infinitely more mature, so Judy enjoyed her place as the youngster of the group. She finished her snack and joined the circle around Melissa.
“You have beautiful hair,” she said to Melissa. “With my unruly blondish tangle, I’ve always envied you Orientals for your silky black hair.”
Melissa’s eyes narrowed and she snapped, “Orientals are rugs, Mrs. Falls. I am Asian. And in case you were wondering, my husband, Jorge, is American-born Hispanic. His hair is black, too, but it curls.”
After speaking, Melissa turned her back to Judy and became absorbed in selecting a cookie.
Judy flushed, blinked, and stepped awkwardly aside to put her empty paper plate in the recycling bin. She stood beside the bin clearing her throat before turning and grabbing her purse from beside the sofa. She choked out a few words of thanks to Eskaletha and fluttered her fingers in a good-bye wave to the others as she hurried out the door, only to be pulled abruptly to a halt when her shawl snagged on the doorknob. She untangled it with trembling fingers and carefully closed the door behind her.
The others exchanged surprised glances and began preparing to leave, murmuring additional words of welcome to Melissa as they filed out.
Seeming unaware of the reactions she’d provoked, Melissa thanked everyone and followed them out, leaving only Olivette and Gwennie behind with Eskaletha.
“I can’t stay to help clean up, ‘Letha. Doc lets me take a long lunch for our meetings, but, much as I’d love to stay and talk about what just happened, I don’t want to take advantage of his kindness,” Gwennie said. She hugged Eskaletha and hurried out.
“What exactly just happened, dear?” Olivette asked her hostess. “What did Judy say that was so wrong?”
“Oh, honey, it’s hard to explain. If you aren’t a minority, you can’t understand how sensitive or hurtful some words can be, even the most innocent ones. We know Judy didn’t mean anything, but we can’t know what Melissa, or her family have been through. As a Christian, I always try to give fellow believers the benefit of a doubt, but even you ladies, who I love to pieces, sometimes say very hurtful things without realizing it. So, I’ve learned to hear with my heart. Melissa is young. Give her time,” Eskaletha said.
“Yes, we must give her time, and pray she will give us time, too,” Olivette said. “I’m sorry if I’ve ever been the one to hurt you, ‘Letha dear.”
“Not you, Olivette. You don’t have it in you,” Eskaletha said with a hug. “You go on home, now, and put your feet up. I can manage this mess.”
*
Judy pulled her car over at the Ramparts Beach overlook, the scenic view blurred by unshed tears.
She wasn’t used to the emotion of humiliation and didn’t recognize the feeling of tightness in her throat and the churning in her stomach. She only knew that Melissa had responded to her compliment with anger and hostility. Judy was hurt and puzzled.
She pulled her Bible from the glove compartment, wiped her eyes on her shawl and let the book fall open to the Psalms. She allowed King David’s words to speak and think for her before softly closing the book and beginning to pray for understanding and peace.
She sat quietly watching the rhythmic wash of the surf on the sand until she felt more like herself.
Eventually, Judy thanked God for His comfort and started the car. As she backed out of the parking spot, she had a feeling the Lord was trying to tell her something, she just wasn’t sure exactly what it was.
*
Elizabeth and Naidenne sat in the glider on the wide veranda of the sprawling parsonage of the Bannoch Community Fellowship Naidenne shared with her husband and young daughter.
Elizabeth lightly pushed her sensible low-heeled shoe against a begonia-filled planter, causing the glider to increase its soothing motion.
“That was a surprise,” Naidenne said, referring to the meeting.
“Yes. Judy looked like she’d been slapped, poor thing. After finding a body in the woods this week, her nerves must already be on edge. It’s no wonder she reacted so strongly,” Elizabeth replied. “I wonder if she has any idea of what she said to upset Melissa.”
“I’m not sure I know what Melissa was upset by, either, Liz. Would you be upset if someone complimented your pretty gray hair?”
“I don’t think that was the problem...it was when she called Melissa Oriental. Apparently, that term is no longer acceptable.”
“These things change so fast, it’s hard to keep up,” Naidenne said. “I didn’t know that term had become offensive, either. I wonder what other words I’m using, in all innocence or plain ignorance, which are considered rude or insulting.”
Elizabeth chuckled softly, almost to herself, as she said, “Maybe there should be a website we can check every morning to see which words are no longer allowed in polite conversation.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Naidenne said, smiling. “I’m not sure how else we are supposed to know.”
“Maybe our First Ladies Club should have monthly sensitivity training,” Elizabeth suggested.
“Oh, that sounds awful! I’ve attended real estate seminars with those sessions and people who were perfectly comfortable with each other before the trainings, start to look at one another as practically the enemy by the time we leave, because we are so afraid of offending one another.”
“Here’s Scott!” Naidenne added, as her husband’s car pulled into the driveway. “Let’s see if he has any suggestions.”
“Hello ladies! How are you two on this beautiful day?” Scott said, as his long legs carried him onto the porch in a single hop.
Elizabeth greeted Scott from the glider and Naidenne stood to give her handsome husband a kiss, demonstrating how closely matched the couple was in height.
“We need some advice,” Naidenne said when she resumed her seat.
Scott leaned against the worn wooden railing and said, “Shoot.”
Naidenne and Elizabeth volleyed back and forth, taking turns detailing the events at their meeting, and then waited for Scott’s response.
“I didn’t know Pastor Gutermann’s wife was Asian,” Scott began. “In fact, before I met him at the ministerial meeting, I didn’t know he was Hispanic, either. We had the new pastor’s name on the paperwork as ‘Rev. J. Gutermann’ and most of us naturally assumed he was of German extraction, if we thought about it, at all. When we got to meet him, we all had a good laugh about it. Jorge, most of all. I’m surprised his wife seems so much more sensitive. However, you’ve asked my advice, so I will give it. I suggest we pray for the Lord’s wisdom and leading and ask Him to show us how to make Melissa feel loved and welcomed as one of the family here in Bannoch.”
“Of course, you’re right,” Elizabeth said. “But what are we to do about Judy?”
“Let’s pray about that, too. Right now,” Naidenne said.
The three friends joined hands and lifted up Judy and Melissa and their shaky relationship to God.
Chapter 5
Detective Ransom, in his office at the County Sheriff’s Office in Tillamook, made a call to the Coroner to check on the case of the recently discovered body.
Fingerprints failed to identify the mummified remains uncovered in the hills above Bannoch, so the investigation was stalled while waiting for the Medical Examiner to conduct a full autopsy.
“County Morgue,” Clarence Monroe, the technician, answered the phone.
“This is Detective Ransom over at the Sheriff’s Office. What’s happening with that unidentified body?”
“We haven’t had a chance to do the postmortem, yet. We’ve got a backup from a fishing boat acc
ident. Half a dozen tanked up tourists were on the boat when it hit some rocks a week or so ago and they keep washing up on the beaches. It’s been wild.”
“Haven’t you done anything with my body, yet?” Ransom interrupted.
“We ran DNA from tooth pulp, like you asked, but there were no hits. The M.E. thinks the body was out there since the sixties, so that’s no real surprise.”
“Why the 1960’s?” Ransom asked.
“The shoes on the body were made by a company that went belly up in the mid-sixties. Unless our girl was into retro footwear, we figure she died in the late 1960’s or early 1970’s.”
“I guess that makes sense,” the detective responded. “So it’s female, eh, that’s something. Can you give me a physical description so I can check missing persons from the time frame? Maybe we’ll be lucky and get a dental match if we have a missing person for comparison.”
“All we can tell, before the full autopsy, is it’s the body of a small pubescent female, around thirteen years old; about five feet tall, or so. We’ll have more when the body’s been processed.”
“Thanks,” Ransom said. “Even if there are no dental records on file, if we can narrow it down through missing persons, maybe we can get a familial DNA match. Do we have a cause of death, yet?”
“Not until after the postmortem,” Monroe said.
“Well, I’m assuming foul play, since almost nobody dies of natural causes and then jumps into a box, so let me know as soon as you have something.”
After ending the call, Ransom gave orders to pull files on all the missing teenage girls in Oregon and Northern California from 1965 to 1975. It was a wide swath, but he hated to miss anyone. If nothing turned up, he would extend the time frame and add Washington and Idaho to the mix. A former Marine, Ransom didn’t like to see anyone left behind, unidentified, no matter how long ago they’d died.
*
In the Falls home that evening, Judy and her daughters were clearing away the dinner dishes.
“Are you girls getting excited about the Junior/Senior Prom that’s coming up?” she asked.
“It can be canceled for all I care,” Paisley said, scraping leftovers into the composting bin.
“Why do you say that?” Judy asked. “Don’t you have a date, yet?”
“Oh, I’m going with Warren, I suppose. He dropped by the library to tell me we are going together.”
“Don’t you like him, anymore, Patsy? All the girls think he’s quite a catch...he looks so cute in his track shorts,” Astilbe giggled.
“He’s cute enough, but he’s such a jock. Sometimes I wish he was interested in something besides sports,” Paisley replied.
“He is interested in you and that’s not sports,” Astilbe quipped.
“I’m not so sure about that. Sometimes it’s all I can do to keep from wrestling with him.”
“He doesn’t try to get fresh with you, does he?” Judy said. “I’ll call his mother, if he does!”
“I can handle him, Mom. When he gets that look and starts getting handsy, I just tell him to cool it and he backs off.”
“Well, I won’t need to worry about anything like that,” Astilbe said. “My date is going to be a perfect gentleman.”
“Who are you going with, dear?” Judy asked.
“My friend, Zill, told me her brother, DeRay, is bringing Ryan Bishop home with him that weekend, so I’m going to ask Ryan to take me,” Astilbe replied.
“How do you know Ryan will want to go to a high school dance? He’s in college, now, remember,” Paisley said.
“He’s my friend. If I ask him, he’ll come. We’ve always had a special understanding, you know,” Astilbe said. “I don’t know why you’re always so stand-offish with him, ever since he graduated.”
“I’m not. I just don’t think he wants to hang out with a couple of old high school friends. Right now, he’s in Tillamook at the Community College, but he’ll be going off to Corban Christian University in Salem, pretty soon. He won’t even be around here, then. I know he’s hoping to work for a para-church Christian Organization when he graduates. He thinks the Christian Church world needs more skilled business and technology minds,” Paisley said.
“How come you know so much about Ryan’s future plans?” Astilbe asked, frowning.
“He told me. He’s my friend, too, you know. We met him at the same time, remember?”
“Well, he’s going to the prom with me, so don’t get any ideas of crowding in on our date,” Astilbe warned.
“Now, girls, don’t quarrel. Ryan and his aunt are good friends of our whole family. Let’s not make an issue out of who he likes better,” Judy said. “Now, run up and get your clothes ready for school.”
“I’m calling Ryan, first, so I can tell him what color my dress will be, for the flowers,” Astilbe said, and ran up the stairs.
“Why should he get you flowers when you are the one asking him out, huh? You should get flowers for him, if he even agrees to go with you,” Paisley shouted up the stairs.
In her room, with the door firmly closed against her sister’s comments, Astilbe flopped onto her bed and punched in Ryan’s cell phone number.
“Hi, Reuben, it’s me, Tilly! How’re you doing?”
Reuben was the girls’ old nickname for Ryan.
“I’m okay,” Ryan replied. “School’s keeping me pretty busy.”
“Yeah, me too,” she replied. “Loads of homework, and I’ve got a quiz to study for tomorrow, too, but I wanted to ask you something, first.”
“What’s up? DeRay’s coming by in a minute. We’re going to the library to work on a project, so I don’t have much time to talk. You know how it is.”
“Sure, this will only take a minute. You know the Prom is coming up soon and Zill said you are coming home with DeRay that weekend, right? So, I thought we could go to the dance together. How about it?”
Ryan was silent for a moment before speaking, “I’m not sure what DeRay has planned for us that weekend. Uh, what’s Paisley doing on prom night?”
“Patsy? She’s going to the dance with her Neanderthal boyfriend, Warren. So, do you want to go with me?”
“Sure, I guess so. I’ll check it out with DeRay tonight,” Ryan said.
“Cool! My dress will be celery green. I haven’t actually got it, yet, but that’s what I’m telling Mom I want, so almost any flowers should go okay.”
“Flowers?” Ryan asked.
“For the corsage, silly.”
“Oh, yeah. Hey, DeRay’s here. I gotta go.”
“Okay, talk to you later. Byee,” Astilbe said and ended the call, falling back on the bed with a dreamy expression on her face.
Downstairs, Judy joined Ken in the living room, where she settled on the sofa beside Mr. Jones and picked up some handwork from a wicker basket near her feet.
“Is all well in the world of teen-age angst? I thought I heard the girls’ raised voices earlier,” Ken said.
“It was nothing, really. They were talking about boys and that often ends in raised voices, if not tears, at this age.”
“Any boys I know?” Ken asked. “I do wish the girls would show more interest in the nice young men in our congregation.”
“The nice young men in our congregation are almost all still in middle school,” Judy reminded him. “Paisley is going with her friend, Warren, the boy who’s been coming over so often. Astilbe is asking Ryan Bishop to take her. I do hope she isn’t going to be disappointed.”
“That’s Merrill Bishop’s nephew, right? Isn’t he in college, now? I thought he moved to Seattle with Merrill and her new husband.”
“He’s in student housing in Tillamook this semester, but Paisley says he’s transferring to Corban University.”
“Corban? Good school. Very sound. Does the boy feel called to the ministry?” Ken asked. “If he does take Astilbe to this dance, perhaps I can have a chat with him, you know, to test the genuineness of his call.”
“Ken Falls! You will do no
such thing. I don’t believe he’s planning to go into the ministry, but if he does feel called, it’s not up to you to interrogate him about it.”
“Perhaps not,” Ken shrugged and returned to his reading.
He soon put down his paper again and asked, “Have you heard anything about the identity of your recent discovery in the woods? There’s nothing in the paper about it. The authorities seem to be taking a long time. Can’t they send off for a DNA test, or something, like they do on TV?”
“I’m sure I wouldn’t know. I mostly watch the DIY and cooking shows, when I watch television,” Judy replied with a yawn. “I’ve had a tiring day. I think I’ll go on up to bed.”
Judy dropped the skirt she was repairing back into her work basket, kissed her husband and climbed the stairs.
The incident at the First Ladies Club meeting returned to her thoughts as she prepared for bed and she wondered how she could make amends for whatever she’d done to upset Melissa Choy Gutermann.
On more than one occasion Judy’s impulsiveness resulted in raised eyebrows or hurt feelings, but her friends merely shrugged and exchanged a “that’s Judy” look. Today was the first time Judy had been made aware of misspeaking.
*
In the guest house on the Bostwich Estate, Jorge and Melissa Gutermann were clearing away after their dinner, a take-away meal from the Crab Shack restaurant in town.
“I was surprised at how good those clams were. How were your crab cakes?” Jorge asked his wife.
“They were okay, I guess. Better than I expected to find in the boondocks, anyway. When we moved here from Seattle, I was afraid we’d need to drive for miles to find any decent restaurants,” Melissa replied, as she squirted dish soap into the stream of hot water filling the sink. “You want to wash or dry?”
Jorge grabbed a dish towel from the rack and joined his wife.
“So, do you think, just maybe, you will be able to endure our time here in Bannoch, after all?” he asked.