The Last Daughter (Tales of the Scrimshaw Doll)

by Ferguson, Jessica

  “Just a minute, Trent.” She tossed her gown onto the light blue bedspread then yanked the door open. “What’s wrong?”

  He frowned. “Why aren’t you using the locks?”

  Rayna laughed. “Do I need to worry about you?”

  He looked embarrassed. “Of course not.”

  “Good, because they make me feel uncomfortable. I don’t like the idea of being locked in. What if I needed to get out in a hurry—you know, a fire or something? And a lock jammed.”

  “Wow, thanks for the visual.”

  “So, what do you need?” she asked. “Was I making too much noise?” she teased.

  “No, but I heard a lot of movement up here. What are you doing?”

  “Afraid I’m going to steal something?”

  He looked hurt.

  She put her hand on his arm. “I’m just kidding. Remember you said you were keeping your enemies close.”

  “I was kidding too. I’m not worried about you stealing anything, but I am scared you might find something pertaining to your childhood and not tell me.”

  “I don’t know why that would concern you or bother you, but I promise to tell you everything unless I think it puts you in danger.”

  “See what I mean? I don’t like that. I don’t want you facing anything alone, and I certainly don’t want you trying to protect me.”

  “Oh, Trent, please don’t worry because it won’t do any good.” She turned away from him. “I have to pursue this.”

  “I can’t help it, Rayna. I can’t shake the feeling that something bad is going to happen.” He came up behind her and put his arms around her, pulled her close. “I know we’ve only known each other a few weeks but I feel as if I’ve known you all my life. I care about you. A lot. And believe me, I’ve never cared about anyone—not like this.”

  She turned to face him and put her hand on his cheek.

  “I know you care, Trent.” He looked so relieved, she laughed. “You’re pretty transparent sometimes. And that’s something I’ve grown to appreciate.”

  “Then, don’t hate me when I tell you I want to get rid of the house and everything in it. Leave here together. As soon as possible.”

  Tears burned their way into her eyes. She fought hard to get rid of them, she didn’t want him to see. She thought he realized how much the house meant to her. Surely, he knew the importance of finding her family. Why would he suggest such a thing? How could he? She gave in to the gut-wrenching pain in her stomach and pulled away. She faced him with a resolve she’d never felt before. “And don’t hate me when I say no. If you stand in my way, Trent, I’ll never forgive you. If you sell this house because of me, before I learn anything, I won’t be able to forgive you.”

  He sighed, ran a hand through his thick dark hair, leaving it askew. “I figured you’d say that. I won’t stand in your way, but I want to be involved in this all the way. I’m serious, Rayna. I want to know exactly what’s going on, and I never want you leaving this house without me.”

  She wrapped her arms around herself. “I’ll feel like a prisoner.”

  “Then promise you’ll at least let me know where you’re going and when you’ll be back.”

  She rubbed her arms. “Is this about Louis?”

  “There’s something about him that makes me...I don’t know...I think he’s a little too interested in you. He wants to be here in the middle of things. No one, absolutely no one, carts off another person’s trash day after day for free—especially with gas prices as high as they are.” He looked at her. “Does the guy even have a real job?”

  “Okay, I agree with you. But I don’t think he’s a bad guy. Look into his eyes next time. He’s sad. There’s something deep down sad about him.”

  Trent shook his head. “You’re way too trusting, Rayna.”

  “And you don’t trust enough.” She pushed him toward the door. “Now get out of here so I can get some sleep. My boss is a slave-driver and if I slack off, he’ll fire me.”

  He curled his arm around her. “You could always sleep with the boss and see where that gets you.”

  “Ha-ha. If the boss wants to sleep with me, he’s going to have to change his ways.”

  “And be more trusting?”

  “Among other things.”

  He pulled her to him just as the north window shattered and a bullet whizzed past the back of her head. They gripped each other and ducked to the floor. Unable to speak, Rayna concentrated on trying to control her shaking body. No luck. She was almost out of control. Panic like she’d never known had her in its grip. When Trent tightened his arms around her, when she felt his warm breath against her neck, she felt a calmness oozing through her. Finally, Trent whispered. “Someone just tried to kill you.”

  Rayna buried her face in his neck. “I know.”

  ****

  Trent couldn’t sleep. Rayna had begged him not to call the cops, but he didn’t feel good about his promise. Who was shooting at her? And why?

  He planned to stay up all night, keep an eye on the place while doing a little more work. When he got tired, he’d stretch out on the sofa in the dark. He doubted anyone would try to break in tonight, but he wasn’t taking any chances. By nature, he didn’t require a lot of shut-eye; he’d inherited his mom’s energy to spare.

  With his clipboard in hand, he reviewed some of the inventory forms and examined several pieces of furniture. Rayna had written good descriptions. She was definitely an asset. His mind kept drifting back to the picture of her and her ugly doll sitting in the corner of that very room, the crack of the gunshot shattering the bedroom window, her plea for him not to call the cops. Something wasn’t right.

  First of all, the picture was weird. Rayna wasn’t just sitting in the corner. To Trent she looked as though she huddled there—as if she was scared, about to burst into tears. She hadn’t commented on her actual expression—only the doll. He wondered if she’d even noticed that she wasn’t smiling, that her fingers were clenched and her arms were wrapped tightly around her doll. He wondered if she chose to ignore her expression and not to say the words aloud. To Trent, she looked frightened, but who would take a picture of a frightened child? Nothing made sense.

  And the gunshot. Could it have to do with her family and her search for them? He wished he’d never promised to keep the gunshot a secret. He wouldn’t make such a promise again. In fact, he needed to document everything so he could give the cops a date if the need arose, the exact time and all the details. He clicked his pen a couple of times while he thought, then began to jot some notes, everything he could remember about the picture, the gun shot, Louis. It was no coincidence that odd things started happening only after Rayna came to town.

  He ran his hand roughly across his face. All signs pointed to Rayna being abused. He’d always heard if someone couldn’t remember their childhood, had blocked it out completely, then it was a sign of something horrible that they didn’t want to remember. What kind of doors were they opening? How would Rayna react when she learned the details of her past? Would she go bonkers and need therapy for years? How would he handle it? How would he ever be able to help her through childhood horrors if he had to? Right now he felt totally inadequate.

  He still believed strongly that he should sell the house and everything in it, and get back to Texas. He couldn’t do that though. She’d told him loudly and clearly, she’d never forgive him if he stood in the way of her search. Of course, he could sell everything and leave her behind, but he had a feeling he’d never forget Rayna, never be able to live without her. Besides that, what kind of man would he be to leave a woman when she was in need of protection?

  “Guess I’m in it for the long haul,” he mumbled, tossing the pen and clipboard onto the sofa.

  He turned out the overhead light and sat down in a chair, resting his head on the high padded back. The lamp in the corner of the room offered a dim, seductive glow. Who would want Rayna dead and why? What if he couldn’t protect her? What if something happened t
o her? If he called the police, would they think he was nuts? Of course not. He’d tell them everything he knew about her and all that had happened: the mysterious picture of Rayna with the doll, the gun shot, and all about Louis showing up to collect free garbage. Tomorrow, he’d dig the bullet out of the wall and he’d talk to Rayna again about reporting the shooting. He was satisfied with his decision. In a few minutes, his eyes shuttered closed. He hovered on the edge of dreamland when a loud thump jerked him fully awake. It came from the porch. Someone was out there.

  He sat still, held his breath, and listened. Complete silence. He eased from the chair and moved toward the front of the room, stopped, listened again. Nothing. He braced himself for a fight and yanked the door open. A large box sat flush against the threshold. He’d bought enough boots to know it was probably a boot box wrapped in brown paper. With a black marker, someone had printed, “Rayna: this is for you.”

  “Not if I can help it,” he whispered. He reached down to pick up the box, stopped himself. She’d never forgive him if he opened it, destroyed it, hid it from her. He straightened and stared at the crudely wrapped package for a brief moment before he shut the door. Nothing he could do. He’d let her open it, then help her deal with the consequences.

  “It can sit out there all night for all I care,” he mumbled “If someone steals it, so be it.” If it was still there after breakfast, it was meant to be.

  “And it sure as hell ain’t no coincidence.”

  Chapter 5

  “You look like a grump this morning. Didn’t you sleep well?” Rayna beat him to the kitchen. She’d made the coffee and was whipping up a breakfast casserole.

  “Why are you fixing so much food?”

  “I realize you’re the gourmet cook in this house, but I’ve been wanting to try this recipe. No better time than now.”

  He grunted and shifted in his chair. “Lots of better times.”

  She quit mixing and dug inside her pocket. She held a silver object toward him. “Okay, I know why you’re upset. Look at this.”

  When he didn’t respond, she explained. “It’s from a pellet gun.”

  “Right, I’ve seen a lot of them. I just don’t understand why that should make me feel better.”

  “No one was trying to kill me. It was probably just a kid out goofing off at night, shooting at street lights. Every bayou kid in Louisiana has a b-b gun or a pellet gun.”

  He took the pellet from her. “Then you realize there are pellet rifles out there thirty-eight and fifty caliber that are legal to deer hunt with. Rayna, a high powered pellet rifle will leave an exit wound on a white tail deer and blow all the way through a squirrel.”

  “Okay, tell me what’s wrong. Everything was good when you left my room last night—except for the gunshot. I’ve never seen you like this.” She put her hand on his arm.

  “Here’s what’s wrong, Rayna.” He held up the pellet. “You could have been killed. Someone shot at you. I never should have promised you I wouldn’t notify the police. If something happens to you, I’ll never forgive myself.” He looked at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. She looked fresh and rested. “Don’t tell me you slept like a baby.”

  She took the pellet from him, and turned back to the counter. She leaned against it. “As a matter of fact, I did sleep like a baby—after I dug this thing out of the wall.”

  He shook his head. “We need to go to the cops. We need to get an investigation going.”

  “You may regret it, but you did promise.”

  “I know. But, Rayna, I’m afraid I’m going to—that we’ll both regret not getting them here to investigate.”

  She sat down at the table and put her hand on his arm. “We can do our own investigation. I’ll do whatever you say as long as you don’t get the police involved.”

  He scowled. “Are you hiding something from me?”

  “No, I promise I’m not. And maybe you’re right about the cops, but let’s discuss it. First, why would anyone shoot at me? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “No, it doesn’t, unless someone doesn’t want you to find your family.”

  Her fingers tightened. “I don’t want to believe that. But if it’s true, I need to know why? Why, Trent?” She moved her hand to her chest and rubbed the fabric of her high neck pullover. “Do you think I witnessed something I shouldn’t have when I was a child? Or have I come into a huge inheritance that someone doesn’t want me to have? Why would anyone care?”

  Trent got up from the table and pulled her from the chair. He cupped her face with both hands and his thumbs caressed her cheeks. “I meant everything I said last night, Rayna. Everything. I’ll sell this place now and take you away from it. I’d do it in a heartbeat. I’ll walk away from it now, give it up completely if you’ll come with me.”

  She pulled back. “Trent, you sound so frantic, you’re scaring me.”

  “I’m scaring you? Someone shoots at you from the street, but I’m scaring you?”

  She plopped down on the edge of a chair and crossed her arms, shrugging into them as if trying to protect herself. “Please, there has to be another way. I don’t want to go to the cops because I don’t want them involved in my life. I’m not sure what I’ll find out about my family, Trent. There may be a time...” She hesitated. “At some point, I may have to walk away from them, but only after I find out who and what they are. Can you understand that? I have to know who I am and who I came from. I have to!”

  Trent didn’t answer but processed every word she said.

  She looked around. “I feel like something’s watching us, waiting for us in the next room, every room and around every corner.” She shivered. “This kitchen feels so safe.”

  Trent nodded. “I guess that’s why I gravitate here every morning. My family always hung out in the kitchen, at any time of day. We talked things over there with our parents. Yeah, I guess the kitchen always felt safe when I was growing up too.” He looked at her. “And maybe there is something in the other room—something evil watching us, waiting—metaphorically speaking.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He shook his head. “Just what I said.” His eyes bored into her.

  “You’re creeping me out,” she said.

  Trent blew out a breath. “I’ve been creeped out all night.”

  Her eyes grew big and round.

  “I guess I can’t put it off any longer. Follow me.” He took her hand and led her from the kitchen to the living room, straight to the front door. He didn’t say a word, and Rayna didn’t either.

  “Where are you—?

  “Don’t say a word, Rayna. One wrong word might push me over the top. My gut tells me to throw you over my shoulder and head out the back door but I know I can’t do that.”

  When they reached the front door, he stepped aside and motioned for her to open it. Hesitantly, looking at him suspiciously, she did.

  The box was still there. Untouched. He had been hoping it would be gone, hoping someone had thought it was something of value and free for the taking. Disappointment washed over him.

  “What is it? How did you know it was here?”

  Her words penetrated the fog in his brain. He studied what he might say to her, running the words through his mind before he spoke them aloud. He’d have to be honest at the risk of angering her.

  “Trent, do you know who brought it? What’s in it?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know anything. I slept down here last night, just in case, and heard something on the porch. When I opened the door,” he motioned. “this is what I saw.”

  “Then, why didn’t you bring it inside. Someone could have stolen it. There might be something of value inside...a family album with pictures.” She glared at him. “You wanted someone to take it, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, I wanted someone to take it!”

  “Trent, how could you!” She stomped her foot looking like an outraged little girl.

  “How could I? You had just been shot at. Wha
t am I supposed to think when a strange package turns up on the front steps the very same night? So yeah, I was more than hoping someone would steal it, I was praying it’d be gone this morning, but evidently it’s meant for you to have whatever it is, so bring it inside.” He walked away from her. “Regardless of what you think, Rayna, I was trying to protect you.”

  “I don’t need protection!” she snapped. She shoved through the door and stepped onto the porch. He thought she’d come back inside, but she didn’t. She elected to sit on the steps and open her package. Fine. More power to her. But the moment he thought it, he turned around and joined her. The guy with the pellet gun could be anywhere.

  “I can only protect you if you want to be protected. And you’re right—I can’t protect you from my gut feelings. I hope I’m wrong. About everything. One hundred and ten percent wrong.”

  While he talked, she unwrapped. He noticed how she methodically peeled the tape away and opened each end. Slowly. Hesitantly. “You’re as leery as I am.”

  “Because you’ve creeped me out,” she answered.

  “A mysterious picture shows up, a questionable trash man. You’re shot at. Now this, and I’ve creeped you out. That’s a good one, Rayna.”

  She yanked the paper off the box in one angry movement. “I realize I’d be a fool not to be a little nervous about this. So what’s your gut feeling telling you now? Why are these things showing up? Who knows I’m here?”

  He put his hand on hers to stop her from ripping the top off the box. “I don’t know, but listen to me. Will you just remember one thing? Just one.”

  “What?” she whispered.

  “Promise me that no matter what’s inside; no matter what happens in the future or what you learn about your past, please promise you’ll remember I care about you; that I’m on your side.”

  She sighed. “I know you are, Trent. And I promise.” A weak smile accompanied her words. When she turned her attention away from him, flipped the top off the boot box, a quiver as cold as a March wind blew through him. Staring up at him with eyes as dark and real as his worst nightmare, worn and straggly as a homeless person, except for the crisp new dress she wore, sat Tiva, Rayna’s childhood doll.