Annie clicked on other links, finding more newspaper items, watching as the columns grew longer and the accounts more detailed, until her head buzzed with all of the information. And never, in all the pages she had scrolled through, did she find so much as a single, simple mention of Stony Point, Maine. If she could just find where the couple now lived … .
Then she found an obituary, and her heart sank. It was not a single obit, but a double one. The Harpers had died on the same day and were buried side by side in a cemetery in Ohio. As carefully as she read David Ralston’s obituary, she studied this one about the Harpers.
“J.E. was preceded in death by his parents, Elmer and Mamie Harper, and Elizabeth A. Harper was preceded in death by her parents, Henry and Emma Louise Ralston, and an uncle David Ralston of Buffalo, N.Y. Survivors include sons Bruce Calvin Harper and wife Melissa of Weston, Kevin Daniel Harper and wife Natalie of Cleveland, Ohio, and one granddaughter, Trudy Harper Jenkins of Richmond, Ind. The Harpers have a host of friends and neighbors who mourn their passing. Interment will be at Weston Hills Cemetery.”
Annie looked up from the screen and squeezed shut her eyes. They felt thick and dull. Her neck ached. How long had she been at this online research anyway? She looked around. The room was dark except for the eerie glow of her laptop, and she had not even noticed it until right then. A glance out the front room window proved the day had advanced well past twilight. She really should finish the search tomorrow and get some rest.
But she refused. She had come this far, and quitting held not one iota of appeal. Even with a stiff neck, dull eyes, raging headache, and empty stomach she persevered.
She typed in Bruce Calvin Harper. And found his obituary.
Kevin Daniel Harper. Obituary.
Annie got a sick feeling in the pit of her belly.
“One more try,” she whispered and tapped keys to spell, “Trudy Harper Jenkins.”
She pressed enter.
The screen offered a link with the woman’s name. She clicked the URL and found the website for a small private school. Trudy Harper Jenkins was alive and well, teaching fourth grade school in Sidney, Ohio.
Annie scanned the screen, found the phone number for the school and reached for her cell phone. At some point, Boots had silently entered the room and now sat on the arm of the sofa, blinking at her.
“How long have you been there?” Annie asked the cat. She held her cell phone, stared at it a moment, and then muttered to herself and Boots, “What grammar school would be in session at this time of night and on a Sunday, anyway?”
She started to put the phone down, but then changed her mind. She dialed information. A short time later she had the home phone number for the woman who seemed to be the only link between Fairview, the Harpers, and Annie’s own dear grandmother.
19
Annie listened as the phone rang several times. Just when she about decided to cut the connection, she heard a click. She perked up, ready to greet the person on the other end.
“Hello. You have reached the phone of Sam and Trudy Jenkins. Please leave your name and phone number, and we will return your call as soon as we can. Thank you.”
The beep to signal voice mail caught Annie off-guard, though she was not sure why it should. Everyone had voice mail or an answering machine these days. In fact, she reached more answering services than she did real people, but was never prepared.
“Umm. Hello. My name is Annie Dawson, and I’m from Stony Point, Maine. I am looking for information about a couple named Joseph and Alta Harper who lived here in the 1980s. Um, I’d like to talk to you, if you’re willing. There is a … well, I’d rather just talk to you instead of leaving a message.” She paused, and nearly cut the connection when she remembered to give her phone number. “Thank you!” she added hurriedly, before she was cut off.
Upstairs she changed into her pajamas, brushed her teeth and hair, and paused long enough to look for fresh gray strands. She fluffed her hair with her fingers, arranging, and smoothing.
“Time for a touch up and a trim,” she muttered, narrowing her eyes critically at the reflection. Then she met her own gaze and said, “And time to stop talking to yourself!”
At last, Annie crawled between the fresh, smooth sheets she had put on the bed that morning. She snuggled down with the covers cuddling her. She was tired, but didn’t expect sleep to come easily. Her mind was too full of discovery.
Boots, who usually slept on her own little cushion, leaped onto the bed and padded gently up to Annie’s face. Her tiny nose twitched softly as she drew closer. One small lick with her rough tongue, right on the end of Annie’s nose, another sniff or two along the human cheek and ear, and then Boots gave a silent meow and backtracked a few steps. She kneaded the covers a few times, and then curled comfortably in a ball, nestled against Annie’s chest. The thrumming purr of the cat’s contented presence vibrated against Annie’s body and calmed her as soothingly as a lullaby.
Annie drifted, her tired body relaxing into another state of being.
Ah, yes, she thought, floating. Beautiful, glorious sleep….
The tone of her cell phone seemed ten times louder and more shrill than necessary, yanking her with suddenness out of that bliss. Annie gasped and sat up, lost for a moment.
Her first thought raced to LeeAnn. Something dire must have happened for her daughter to call this late at night. But a glance at the bedside clock proved only a few minutes had passed since she had gone to bed. It was not even ten o’clock yet. She fumbled with the cell phone for a second or two.
“Hello,” she croaked. She cleared her throat and spoke again. “Hello?”
“Hello. This is Trudy Jenkins. I’m returning your call.”
Annie sat straight up in bed, wide awake in an instant. Boots yowled in protest and jumped to the floor.
“Yes!” she said. “I mean, thank you for calling.”
“You said you knew my grandparents?” The tone was cautious, perhaps a bit hopeful.
“No, actually. I didn’t know them, but my grandmother did.”
There was a long pause.
“In Maine?”
“Yes. Stony Point.”
“My goodness.” This came faintly, as if the caller had suddenly reeled from the mouthpiece. “My goodness. Ms. Dawson, you don’t know … . We’ve wondered … . I mean, it’s been more than twenty-five years, and my family all thought Grandpa and Grandma … . I need to sit down.”
Annie hardly knew what to think. Was the woman on the other end of the conversation as flummoxed as she sounded? Why was she at a loss for words? Had Annie fumbled her message that much?
“Are you all right?” she asked. She turned on the bedside lamp, as if the light could help her see Trudy Jenkins.
“Yes. I’m fine.” She sounded stronger, more in control. “Excuse me, just one moment.” Annie heard sounds of papers and shuffling; then Trudy Jenkins said, “I’m sorry. I just had to sit down.” She laughed. “And get something to write on. Your message so stunned me that I didn’t even stop to think before I returned your call. I apologize. I was gone … open house at the school tonight. Oh, my.”
“I understand. I’m sure my message was a little garbled in content. You know how you never expect to go to voice mail but almost always do.”
“Yes. And you’re never prepared!”
“Exactly.”
They laughed together, and then Annie said, “I am so glad to finally make contact with someone who had some connection with Joe and Alta Harper.”
“Mrs. Dawson, you have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear from you.”
Annie blinked. “From me?”
“Well, not you in particular. That is, I’ve waited to hear from someone, anyone, who might have known my grandparents the year they disappeared.”
20
“Disappeared? They disappeared?”“Yes. But you knew that. Didn’t you?”
This time it was Annie’s turn to pause. An old abandoned house, and now
a disappearance? What next?
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know that. Were they ever found?”
“Oh yes. Yes, of course! But … how could you not know that?” Trudy’s voice was tense, the words curt and clipped.
Annie felt affronted, but Trudy immediately gasped out, “I’m so sorry! Please forgive me for snapping like that. It’s just that hearing from you has just taken me so by surprise, even though I’ve waited all these years.”
“It’s all right. Don’t feel badly. But why don’t we take events one at a time? I’ll tell you what little I know, and you can fill me in on what you know. Then perhaps knowing all that, we’ll be able to solve both our mysteries!”
“I like that idea. Yes. Please tell me as much as you can.”
Annie scrunched up her pillow, piled another one top of it, settled comfortably against them and said, “I’d be glad to.”
She explained about Gram and the attic and all the treasurers she had found up there since she had lived at Grey Gables. She told about the huge box of yarn and how her search for a place to store it led her to discovering the deed.
“I’d never heard of Fairview, and certainly Gram never said a single word about owning another property. But the mystery got so deep when no one in Stony Point could remember your grandparents. In fact, no one had even heard of them.”
“I see! Well, I certainly understand how that could rouse intrigue and curiosity.” Trudy chuckled. “I’m not sure I’d have the patience to chase down details, but I’m so glad you did!”
“Believe me, this has not been easy. I have basically run into dead end after dead end, until now.”
“I’m sure that has been extremely frustrating for you.”
“It has!” Annie agreed. “Almost maddening, in fact.”
“No doubt. But you persevered and found me!”
Annie smiled. “Yes! So, Trudy, did you know my grandmother?”
“No, I’m sorry to say that until this moment, I only knew her through what my grandfather told us. And it was a long time before he spoke of her at all. For a while, all anyone in my family knew was that we woke up one day and my grandparents were gone. They had simply vanished, and we couldn’t find them. The note Grandpa had left was cryptic and short, and all efforts to find him and Grandma were fruitless.”
“So they came to Stony Point, but no one knew?”
“One day about a year or so later, they returned. Just as suddenly and with just as much mystery as they had left. We never knew what had happened that year until a couple of days before they died. No matter how often we asked, they both would just give us these sweet little smiles and say nothing. But then Grandma became very ill. She pretty much lost touch with the world around her and went downhill fast. Grandpa was healthy, but her deterioration was hard on him. They loved each other so much. Then one day … . Well, I guess he sensed the end was near. He just started talking. And he told us about that year.”
21
June 1986: Joe glanced across the front seat as Alta reached up to adjust the sun visor on her side of the car. She had napped off and on for the last hundred or so miles, but now the sun’s bright new rays shot straight through the windshield and pierced their eyes. No amount of change to the visor would shield her eyes at this early hour. He flipped down the pair of clip-ons he had attached to his driving glasses before they left home. The cool rays of the tinted glass eased his vision.
“You Okay, honey?” he asked.
She yawned and stretched her legs in as much space as the small rental car allowed, and then fished in her purse.
“I’m fine,” she said as she withdrew a pair of large dark-framed sunglasses from her purse and settled them on her small nose. She turned her head to face him. “How ’bout you, Joey?”
He smiled at the sweet old name she called him, stretched out his right arm and grabbed her hand.
“I could do with a break pretty soon. Maybe we’ll stop for breakfast in the next town. What do you say to that?”
He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her thin fingers. The diamonds from her wedding band caught the sunlight and shared it with the rest of the world. They would never see the rest of her jewelry shine that way again.
“I’d like breakfast, I think. I’ve been too nervous to eat very much these last few days.”
“I know, honey. I know.”
Hand in hand, they rode in silence as the miles stretched behind and before, full of regret and hope, threat and promise.
Just like our lives, Joe thought.
The sun inched upward, and the car’s interior warmed. He refrained from turning on the air conditioner. Along with sleepless nights and loss of appetite, Alta had taken to being cold a lot lately. When they got to Stony Point, he was going to insist she see a doctor, just to make sure she was all right. He figured the pressure of these last months had done this, but stress could be a killer. He never took chances with his darling’s health.
“‘Grandma’s Rocking Chair Cookies',” she read as they passed a huge billboard. “Do you suppose Grandma makes them in a rocking chair?”
He chuckled at her attempted humor, squeezed her fingers. It meant she hadn’t given up completely.
“Maybe you’re supposed to eat them in a rocking chair,” he said.
“I like that idea better.”
“Maybe they’ll have Grandma’s Rocking Chair Cookies in Maine.”
“Maybe.”
“If they don’t, you’ll have to bake us some.”
She nodded.
“Maybe we can sit on the porch and eat cookies. Or on the beach at night, next to a big old bonfire.”
He wanted things to be as normal as possible, and normal included Alta smiling and feeling lighthearted. She said nothing; her silence scared him.
“Remember that time, where was it? Costa Rica, or Cancún, maybe, where we took that long moonlit walk and there were those college kids around a bonfire? Remember? They invited us to eat hotdogs and marshmallows, and told us all about their grandparents. They called us Mema and Pepa. Remember? They were good kids to treat us geezers like youngsters.”
Her smile was a mere shade of its normal brilliance.
“Yes. That was sweet of them.”
Silence for a while, then …
“Joe? Joe, are we doing the right thing? Just leaving this way?”
He tried not to sigh audibly.
“Sweetheart, we’ve been over this more times than I can count.”
“I know. But I can’t help but feel there was something else—something more we could have done, somehow.”
“No. There was nothing else we could have done. I couldn’t face Bruce or Kevin, not after everything that happened. You know that.”
She lifted the sunglasses long enough to wipe tears with a tissue.
“I know. Oh, honey, I know! But it’s just so hard to leave them, not saying goodbye, not kissing Trudy, or hugging our kids. Joe. Joe, I just don’t think I can ….”
Her sobs broke his heart. Alta, who had believed in him when he had had nothing to offer but love and promises, had given him her youth and her heart and two beautiful sons.
But now all that was behind them, back there in a world they would never see again. Look what she had: A few suitcases. Her cross-stitch. And him.
It wasn’t easy, that trip to coastal Maine. They were not young anymore, and their joints stiffened after sitting so long in the small car. By the time they passed Stony Point and pulled into the driveway at Fairview, the day was far advanced, and a chill had settled into everything. They had stopped at a fast-food place in some little town an hour or so ago, and the greasy food had settled uncomfortably in his system. In fact, he felt a little queasy. Joe pulled out the suitcase that held their night clothes and linens, and he left everything else in the car until he could unload tomorrow.
“Fairview,” he muttered as he trudged behind Alta toward the cottage door. He dreaded to see what was inside the old house
Alta’s uncle had left to her. No one had set foot in the place in years.
She unlocked the door and opened it, stepping aside for him to pass through with his burden.
“Get the lights, will you, honey?” he said.
“We have electricity?”
“I called the utility companies days ago and sent them a money order. We’d better have lights—and heat and water.”
Alta fumbled, feeling along the wall in the semidarkness, clicked the switch and threw the room into bright relief. Joe looked around. Dull with dust, the room still presented a homey ambiance.
“We’ll get someone in here to clean tomorrow,” Alta said with her customary optimism. “It will be beautiful. I’ll buy some new curtains. Those are ancient. Some new furniture.”
“Honey.”
She looked at him, her eyes dim with fatigue in spite of her cheerful demeanor and confident words.
“Let’s go to bed now, and talk about this place tomorrow.”
A good night’s sleep on a bed Alta hastily and clumsily made up with fresh linens, gave them new energy. But they did not hire help to clean. They did it themselves. For Alta, it was the first time in many years she had tackled such chores. And the new furnishings and draperies she wanted? That would never happen. They had to make do with what was in the cottage.
Life in Maine proved more difficult than either one anticipated. Torn from everything familiar, they felt thrust into what seemed to be nothing more than a backwoods cabin far from the privileged lifestyle they had lived for so many years. Alta wanted to mingle with the locals, and longed for a social life, but Joe protested.
“You know we have people looking for us right now, honey. It’s best if we stay here, out of sight as much as possible. It’ll get better by and by, I promise.”
“But people in town think our names are Jim and Barb Johnson. They won’t link us with HarperTown Investments. No one will know.”
“I’d rather be safe than sorry. Maybe in a few years. After the scandal dies, after everyone knows the truth, maybe then we’ll try to become a part of Stony Point society. But for now, honey, our social circle has to be just you and me, and the two channels we can get on TV.”
The Deed in the Attic Page 16