The Last Daughter (Tales of the Scrimshaw Doll)

by Ferguson, Jessica

  “There’s something about our trash that fascinates him. Maybe I should reassess. Maybe the real fortune is in the garbage not the house and antiques.”

  “You might have something there.” She popped some bread into the 4-slice toaster, got jam out of the fridge, and waited. As soon as the toast popped up, she spread on butter and jam, and put the two plates on the table. They’d established their routine quickly. Tomorrow morning it would be his turn to fix her an omelet with black olives and cheese. Trent loved to cook.

  “So what’s on the agenda today?” she asked.

  “Your choice: wall paper or more inventory and stuff.”

  She shrugged. “I’ll take the stuff.”

  He tilted his head while he chewed. “You don’t seem too perky. What’s up?”

  She slumped in the chair. “I’ve been here almost three and a half weeks now. I haven’t found a thing. Not even a clue. At least, not a real one.”

  “We’re still on the ground floor. We have a lot of books to thumb through and drawers to open.”

  Trent’s encouragement didn’t work this time.

  “I know. I just thought—I guess I expected to find stuff in every drawer, a birth certificate, pictures, someone’s marriage license or something—anything that would help me track down family.”

  Trent reached across the table and took her hand. “Don’t give up so soon. If it’s here, we’ll find it. If it’s not, then it’s not. You’re who you are now—not who you were then.” He cocked his head. “Yeah, that makes sense. Doesn’t it?”

  She laughed. “In a weird sort of way.” She squeezed his hand then let it go. “Let’s get to work. Maybe today I’ll strike pay dirt.”

  “You’ll strike dirt all right. This place is filthy.”

  They didn’t break until one-thirty, and then only because Trent complained that he needed food or he would die of starvation. Instead of cooking, he volunteered to run to the nearest fast food joint for burgers, shakes, and fries. When he returned, Rayna was sitting on the front steps, an envelope in her hand.

  “What’s that? Another empty envelope?” Trent asked.

  “I haven’t opened it, but it’s not empty.” She held it up so he could see her name scrawled across the front, the address printed in small block letters just below. There was no return address.

  They stared at each other for a moment before he spoke again. “Go ahead, open it.”

  Rayna scooted over and motioned for him to sit. “No, I’m going to eat first. If I open it and it’s bad news, I might not have an appetite.”

  When Trent sat down on her left, she placed the envelope on the step below, between their feet. Trent opened the sack from Burger Land and handed her a container of fries and a wrapped burger. He placed her vanilla shake beside her.

  “I can’t believe you’re being so calm about this. I’d have torn it open immediately.”

  She shook her head. “I know when I start finding clues, or relatives, there’ll be no turning back. My life will be different—for good or for bad.”

  Trent choked on his food. “Sounds ominous. We’re entering dangerous territory then?”

  She gave him a stern look. “Not we. Me. I’m entering dangerous territory. Once I open that letter.”

  He frowned but said nothing. They ate in semi-silence, staring at the envelope near their feet. When they finished, Trent stuffed their trash into the bag and wadded it up. “Want me to open it?” he asked.

  “Why you?”

  “Just in case it’s anthrax or something. I’ll take the hit for you.”

  “Now is not the time for humor.”

  “I wasn’t trying to be funny. I’m serious.” He took both her hands. “Honestly, you don’t have to open it. You can trash it, put your past behind you—no matter what it is—and never look back. You have a future with me as a—”

  “As a free laborer?” she interrupted. Her voice was sharp. She yanked her hands away. “Why on earth would you even suggest that? You know how much this means to me. I have to find out who I am. I have to!”

  Trent stood and looked down at her. “I don’t want you to get hurt, Rayna. I don’t want you to expect something wonderful and not get it. That’s what I’m saying.”

  Her eyes filled. She tugged on the leg of his jeans and when he sat once again, she put her arm through his and laid her head on his shoulder. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, but we both know I can’t ignore this.”

  They stared at the envelope a moment longer before Trent picked it up and handed it to her. “Let’s get this over with so we’ll know what our next step is.”

  “Our next step?”

  “Yeah, whether you like it or not, I’m with you—one hundred and ten percent.”

  Rayna looked into his gray eyes. Something was there, but she didn’t have time to explore it. Not yet. Not today. She gave his arm a squeeze then turned her attention to the envelope. She stuck her fingernail under the flap and slowly worked it open.

  ****

  Trent watched her. He ached for her, for what she might find. Her hesitancy made him want to grab the envelope from her hands and stuff it inside the trash bags. He didn’t want things to change. He wanted everything, every day, to stay the same. They’d had fun. They were compatible. They were friends, and it was possible they could be more. Whatever was in that envelope, if it caused her pain, he swore, deep down in his gut, he would make someone pay. He’d closed his eyes, making the vow, when he heard her shriek.

  His eyes flew to her face. A happy face. Something must be right.

  “Tiva! It’s Tiva!” She stood. She held a picture between her fingers and seemed on the verge of jumping up and down.

  “Who’s Tiva? Let me see.” He reached for the photo, but she pulled it away. She leaned into him, holding the picture for both of them to see.

  “Look. It’s me as a baby, well, probably about two or three, and I’m holding my doll, Tiva.”

  “Wow, that’s one ugly doll. So you remember?”

  She frowned at him, but her expression turned to surprise, as if something had just dawned on her. “No, I don’t remember. I recognize the doll.” She turned away. “Actually, I don’t even recognize her. I just remember her name.” She stood, panic written all over her face. “Trent, why do you think I know her name but I can’t remember—actually remember?”

  She walked toward the heart branded into the wood near the door. She stared at it. A visible shiver ran over her body. She shook her head before turning to face him, tugging at her shirt. Why was she acting so uncomfortable? Something wasn’t right.

  Prickly goose bumps jabbed his body as if he’d fallen into an Oklahoma cactus garden. “Let me see again?” he asked. She moved closer and bent toward him, showing him the picture. The child was huddled in the corner, against a wall, hugging the atrocious doll to her chest. And then he realized what he was looking at. He yanked the picture from her, grabbed her hand, and pulled her into the house.

  “Look. Look at that corner of the room.” He pointed.

  Rayna examined the picture, the wall, Trent’s face. She eased closer to the corner until she was right there, standing where the child had been. She slid down the wall to the floor. “A connection. We’ve found a real connection.”

  ****

  Rayna could barely sit still and didn’t work the remainder of the day. She kept the picture in her hand constantly, jabbering about her hair, her face, her clothing, and Tiva. “This is the only picture I have of myself as a child. I’m sure I sound like a crazy woman.”

  When he didn’t respond, she looked up at Trent. “You’re too quiet. What’s up?”

  “Don’t need to talk. You’re doing enough for both of us.”

  “I’m just excited.”

  He ripped a piece of wallpaper. “I understand that. But doesn’t it strike you a little odd that yesterday you were moaning and groaning about having found no clues, and today you get a big one in the mail? I wonder if this
house is bugged.”

  “It’s just a coincidence.”

  “I don’t believe in coincidence, and you shouldn’t either.”

  “What are you suggesting?” she asked.

  “I have no idea what to suggest, I’m just a little bit suspicious of this...this so called coincidence. Who sent it through the mail? How do they know you’re searching for your family? Why don’t they know your last name? Or do they?” He turned to look at her. “Don’t you find all of this extremely odd?”

  “Yes, of course, I find it odd, but I don’t want to think about anything bad. I want to enjoy this.”

  “Don’t hang out in your bubble of joy for too long, Rayna. The hair on the back of my neck is still standing, only now it’s waving. There’s something not quite right about this whole thing.”

  “Maybe it was an old neighbor still around here. It could be. That’s not impossible.”

  “Then why didn’t they just hobble over here and hand you the picture?”

  “I don’t know, Trent, I don’t have any answers. I just don’t want this to turn into some kind of mystery or worse, horror story. I want to find my family.”

  He moved to her, rested a hand on the side of her face. “I know. I’m sorry I’m so suspicious. I want you to find them too.”

  She smiled at him, reached up and put her hand on his, then moved away. Now that she had this clue, brief as it was, she didn’t want to encourage a relationship with Trent. Not yet, not now, and especially if he wasn’t as enthusiastic about her search as she was. She didn’t need any distractions.

  But she couldn’t have found this clue without him. If he hadn’t allowed her to live here, work with him, would she have received such a gift as this? What could it mean? Was it an old neighbor? Maybe a house-bound neighbor who couldn’t hand-deliver it? She prayed she’d remember something about her childhood, something other than the wounded heart brand. She hated not knowing. She didn’t feel like a whole person when so much of her was missing.

  She plopped down on the sofa. “What’s your earliest memory, Trent? I’ve read that on a subconscious level we choose what we want to remember and what we want to block out.” She squinted at the picture. “If I was a happy child, why would I want to block out anything?”

  He went back to his work. “I remember getting kicked in the head by a horse when I was two, so I can’t remember anything before that.”

  “Don’t be a jokester right now. I’m serious.”

  “Rayna, you were two, three at the most. What could you possibly remember at that age?”

  “I’ve read that some people can remember being in the womb.”

  “That’s ridiculous. I don’t believe it,” Trent answered, stuffing more trash into a garbage bag. “How would that be possible?”

  She shook her head. When she didn’t say anything more for a few minutes, Trent plopped down beside her. “So now what? Are you going to stop working and hit the junk stores looking for that old doll?”

  “Don’t be mean about Tiva. I’ll get back to work. Just let me enjoy this day. I’ve found my first clue to who I am...or who I was. This picture means I had a home. This home.”

  “And that means there’s something to your flashes of memory.”

  Her eyes widened. “It means I had a family because someone gave me this doll. And someone took this picture. Maybe I’ll find out who they were and if they’re still alive.”

  “I hope so, Rayna. I really do. And I hope they’re nice people.”

  “So do I.” She smiled at him. “As for looking for Tiva, no, I’m not going to waste the time. Tiva has probably gone to doll heaven by now. Just look at her.”

  He visibly cringed and made a face. “We can only hope.”

  Before Rayna could respond or hit Trent in the head with the pillow she’d grabbed, a knock on the door caused both of them to jump and jerk to attention. Trent got up from his chair and peeked out the window. “Garbage man,” he whispered over his shoulder.

  He moved to the door and tugged at it. “Remind me to remove this thing from its hinges and do some sanding.” He yanked again and this time it came open. “On second thought, maybe I should leave it alone, allow it to hang and squeak in case of a break-in. A little warning might be nice.”

  Rayna smiled at Trent’s grumbling and how he greeted the trash man like an old friend he hadn’t seen in several days. “Hey man. Appreciate you coming over in the middle of the night to get the trash. Rayna said you chased a lot of it down ’cause a bag tore open.”

  The strange man’s eyes shifted past Trent to Rayna. She got up from the sofa and joined them at the door.

  “I couldn’t sleep and saw you from my window,” she explained. “I felt guilty that I didn’t go out and help.” When he blushed, she stuck out her hand. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Rayna and this is Trent.”

  She thought he might not respond but after he swallowed, he said, “Louis. You can call me Louis.”

  “Good to meet you, Louis. What can I do for you today?” Trent asked. “Give you more trash? More credit card numbers or something?”

  Louis pulled his eyes away from Rayna and met Trent’s. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “We saw you put something in your pocket. You wouldn’t be in the identify theft business, would you? Planning a trip to Bora Bora, maybe?”

  “I recycle stuff. I’m not a thief.”

  “You sure seem like a suspicious character to me.”

  “I’m here only to offer help. Paint. Remove wallpaper or something.”

  “For free, of course,” Trent suggested, a little too sarcastically Rayna thought

  “I don’t need the money,” Louis answered, eyes like slits. For the first time, he didn’t look friendly.

  Rayna put her hand on Trent’s arm, but he paid no attention to her. He snorted. “Buddy, everyone needs money. Why don’t you tell us who you really are?” The muscles in Louis’ jaw bulged. “Sorry, did I hit a nerve? Honesty always makes a guy feel better, you know.”

  “I’m not a liar either.” His tone held little conviction.

  “We don’t need any help. Especially from someone we can’t trust.”

  Louis narrowed his eyes and poked out his chin. “Maybe you should take it where you can get it. Looks like a challenge to me. A little more than you seem up to.”

  “I’ll show you what I’m up to—” He grabbed Louis by the front of his shirt.

  “No, Trent, no!” Rayna maneuvered between them and pushed the two men apart. They stood, glaring at each other, as if she didn’t exist.

  “I can’t imagine what we’d accomplish if you two can’t get along.” She shot Trent a stern look before she turned back to Louis. “I’m sorry, Louis, we really aren’t in a place where we need help, but if we see we need some extra hands, we can always call you. Okay?”

  Louis’ eyes softened. Rayna was surprised at the sudden change in his expression. Did he have feelings for her? Why? She risked looking at Trent and from the expression on his face, she knew he’d noticed too. His fist clenched—open, closed—at his side.

  “Tell me, are you from around here, Louis? You wouldn’t happen to have known Rayna in a previous life, would you?”

  The question came from nowhere. Why would Trent ask such a thing? The man’s face colored, but he ignored Trent’s question and gave a half smile to Rayna. “If you need anything, just grab me when I come by to pick up your trash.” He gave a slight nod, turned, and walked away.

  Rayna and Trent watched. Neither of them said a word.

  Chapter 4

  With renewed energy, Rayna searched, itemized, recorded, and methodically sifted through paperwork. She retreated to her third floor bedroom every night but when she couldn’t sleep, she’d prowl around in the adjoining rooms. The picture was constantly on her mind, but so was Trent. She knew he thought she was too attached to the black and white photograph, and too intent on knowing about her past. He told her
there was a strange feeling in the house now, an ominous feeling, and she had to agree. But she wasn’t sure it came from the picture. Louis had scared her. He and Trent had been a breath away from coming to blows if she hadn’t stepped between them. And now, she had the eerie feeling that they were being watched, or maybe even listened to. Was it possible that the house was bugged as Trent suggested? What part did Louis play in her life? Had he known her family? When he came around again, she’d ask him point-blank if he knew her or her family. She hoped Trent wasn’t around when she did. He was becoming way too protective.

  He watched her closely, as if something evil was going to reach out and grab her. She felt safe with him and appreciated his concern, but he had to know she’d risk life and limb to track down her past.

  In spite of his hovering over her, they were growing closer. As much as she wanted to touch him, relax in his arms, she didn’t dare. How could she invite him into her life when she didn’t have a clue what her life was all about? She could see how much he cared. It was visible on his face, in his eyes. His obvious affection unnerved her.

  Not yet, she thought. Not yet. Sometimes she could tell he wanted to talk about them, their future together. She’d always change the subject, jokingly nudge him in another direction. She suspected he knew exactly what she was doing. Talk about patience. He had some. She wondered if she was wrong, that maybe it was time for them to get their feelings out in the open, but she always decided against it. Didn’t every relationship have steps of progression? She thought she’d read that somewhere. Seemed like they were skipping too many steps.

  More disconcerting, she wasn’t sure she and Trent wanted the same things. Could she accept his way of life—buying, selling, never settling down or owning anything? She wasn’t so sure she could. And if and when it came to selling this old house, she wasn’t certain she could watch him do it, and that would probably cause trouble between them.

  Rayna was preparing to change into her nightgown when a knock on the door caused her to jump.

  “Rayna?” Trent’s voice was low as he called to her from the other side of her bedroom door. He never came upstairs. He usually hollered up when he needed her.