Neither Keturah nor Agnes chastised them. Men bringing snow and hay into a house was not an issue to a dairy farmer’s wife. It was part of a normal day’s work.
“Supper is almost ready.” Agnes lifted the lid off a pot on the stove, stirred and tasted. Benjamin came over to his mother and peeked into the kettle.
“Bist du hungrig?” Agnes said.
“Ja,” Benjamin said, rubbing his stomach.
“Clara!” Agnes called up the stairs. “Bitte komm und hif mir beim Tischdecken!”
The four-year-old came clattering down the stairs and began setting the table.
“Aaron,” Agnes said. “Lasse das Wasser.”
The little boy began filling water glasses at the sink and placing them on the table.
Ivan and Noah greeted Rachel, then poured themselves cups of coffee from the enamelware coffeepot simmering on the back of the woodstove, sat down at one corner of the table, and continued their conversation. This time about the merits of planting a different kind of field corn for their cows the coming spring.
Rachel walked over and caressed the downy head of the two-day-old baby. If only the infant could have a family such as this, where people spoke to one another with respect, where decency and kindness were the rule, and where good food was always abundant. If every child grew up in this environment, she seriously doubted street gangs or drug addiction would be a problem.
The baby grasped her finger when she touched its tiny fist. That small grip weakened Rachel’s knees, but it stiffened her resolve. She would do everything within her power to make certain this helpless baby girl ended up being raised by someone who would love and take care of her. Somehow, she did not see that being a possibility with Tony.
Chapter 31
“We got the results of your biopsy back,” the nurse said the next morning when Cassie returned the doctor’s office call. “Dr. Baker would like for you to come into the office so he can talk with you. We have an opening at two o’clock today.”
Two o’clock. Smack in the middle of the day.
Why would the doctor have to talk to her face-to-face? Why couldn’t they simply tell her the results over the phone?
“I have a very heavy workload today,” Cassie said. “Can’t you give me the results over the phone?”
“The doctor thinks it would be best for you to come into the office.”
Cassie’s stomach lurched. That meant it had to be bad news.
“I’ll be there,” she said.
It was going to be difficult to concentrate for the next five hours.
The thought that she might have breast cancer was overwhelming. How could she continue to meet the high expectations of her job if that were true?
Not only was she frightened, she simply didn’t have time to have cancer.
Getting fingerprint results usually took around two to four days. Considering that they were dealing with the aftermath of the holiday season, Rachel was pleased that they had gotten Lily’s fingerprints back after only seventy-two hours. The results, however, were disappointing. Apparently, Lily had never had reason to be fingerprinted. No surprise there.
Dental records were not going to be helpful without a narrower location to search. According to Mabel, Tony had found Lily wandering around the bus station. She could have come from anywhere. Since there was no national database for dental records, targeting a particular dentist to request them from would be akin to throwing a dart at a map of the United States. Even then, there was no guarantee that Lily had ever visited a dentist. The autopsy had shown that there had been no dental work done, or needed.
So Rachel had spent every spare minute for the past four days searching the National Unidentified Missing Persons Data System or NamUs. Using what information she had from Mabel, in addition to her own observations, she had been going back three years, searching for a teenager matching Lily’s description.
It was truly astonishing and saddening how many missing persons there were.
But at least those people who had been registered as missing had someone in their life who had actually missed them enough to alert the police.
Saddest of all were the reports from coroners around the country reporting unclaimed bodies of human beings who had once been alive, with thoughts and feelings and hopes and dreams, but who didn’t have even one person who cared enough to claim responsibility for them.
So much loneliness in the world. It boggled her mind.
Rachel thanked God for her family, her friends, and for a community where she had people who would notice and worry if she didn’t show up. She had people who would grieve and investigate if she went missing.
She typed in Lily’s name and known statistics into a different search engine. Perhaps this was futile, or a mistake. Now that the autopsy showed severe abuse in Lily’s past, Rachel wasn’t even sure she wanted to make a connection with Lily’s family of origin. But there was protocol to follow, which meant doing her level best to find Lily’s relatives.
“Put a picture of her in the paper,” Ed suggested. “Offer a reward. It doesn’t have to be much. A lot of people would turn in their own grandmother for twenty bucks.”
“The only picture I have is from the wreck. I took it with my cell phone after she was dead. It is not exactly a picture people will want to run across while eating their breakfast.”
“Is there a chance Tony Maddox or Mabel might have one?”
“I’ll call and see.”
Mabel was not home. Or else the old woman had chosen not to answer the phone today. There was no telling what was going on when it came to Mabel. Rachel had better luck when she dialed Tony’s cell phone—the number he had used when he called her.
“This is Rachel Mattias,” she said, when a man’s voice answered. “Is this Tony Maddox?”
“Depends,” Tony drawled. “You the hot girl cop I saw yesterday?”
She had no idea what he was trying to do. Impress a buddy listening on the other end? Actually hitting on her? Or was he letting her know that he was not impressed with the fact that she was a law officer. Probably all three. She ignored his rude comment.
“I accompanied you when you identified Lily’s body. I need a good photograph of her. Do you have one?”
“What’s it worth to you?”
She held onto her temper by counting to three slowly before she responded.
“Do you have one or not?” she asked. “We can negotiate price later.”
At that, Tony started laughing until he choked. After a coughing fit, his voice and attitude changed. He seemed to be the kind of person whose personality and attitude could turn on a dime. No doubt it kept his minions on their toes.
“I’m just messing with you, Officer,” he said. “There’s no pictures of her. It was the only thing she insisted on besides hanging onto the baby. It’s a real shame because she was a pretty girl.”
“Do you have any idea why she didn’t want her picture taken?”
“She never said.”
“You ever ask her?”
“People I hang with say they don’t want pictures, I don’t argue. I figure they got reasons.”
Rachel tried to stamp down her frustration. This man had lived with Lily for three years. He’d fathered a child with her. He must know something about her that would make it possible to track down her family.
“Do you know why she had a news clipping with her about my husband’s restaurant when she crashed?”
“No clue. You gotta understand, Officer, me and Lily, we weren’t close.”
“But you fathered a child with her.”
“Well, yeah. But it’s not like we sat around chit-chatting or anything.”
“I understand. Thank you.” She clicked off.
“Find out anything?” Ed asked.
“Yes,” she said. “Tony is a jerk, and Lily was definitely hiding from someone. There are no photos of her, because she didn’t want any. Did you ever meet a teenage girl who didn’t want her picture
taken? Ever?”
“She was definitely running,” Ed said. “And it had to be for a bad reason if living with Tony looked like a good alternative.”
Chapter 32
Cassie felt so strange when she got out of bed the morning after being told by her doctor that she had an aggressive form of breast cancer. The earth had shifted on its axis and, if the doctor was right, nothing would ever again be the same.
Her night had consisted of staring at her ceiling, telling herself that everything was going to be okay. Pacing the floor, trying to calm herself with the hope that the lab had gotten things wrong. Watching the hours evaporate while berating herself for not being able to relax enough to get to sleep.
The reality was that her mother had died of the same form of breast cancer that Cassie now had. This knowledge was a sword that had been hanging over Cassie’s head ever since she was sixteen and became her mother’s caretaker for the few short months she had lingered.
That which Cassie had feared, had come to pass.
The routine of her daily schedule kept her moving through the morning in spite of being upset. She showered and brushed her teeth at the usual time, dressed in the outfit she had chosen the night before.
The classic charcoal skirt and jacket she had chosen fit her perfectly. As she dressed, she couldn’t help but wonder what Michael would think of her after a surgery that she was fairly certain would be inevitable. Maybe it was a good thing that they were getting divorced. At least now she would never have to see disappointment in his eyes when he looked at her. Although, with Michael, it was hard to tell. He wasn’t like the men her mother had dated.
She had noted and admired the choice that the actress Angelina Jolie had made, choosing to have a double mastectomy rather than risk a future where the fear of breast cancer would always be lurking. In the back of her mind, she had known that she too might have to make that same decision someday.
Her mother had made the opposite choice. She had been too frightened that, if she chose surgery, the Prince Charming she had been waiting for her whole life would not want her.
Her mother had chosen a fantasy over fighting to live for her sixteen-year-old daughter’s sake. Cassie had never forgiven her for that.
Her morning routine was one that she had developed in order to be as organized and efficient as possible. Now, she realized that, when one experienced tragic news or a traumatic event, having routines in place was even more important because it took away some of the need to think. It was possible to at least give the appearance of normality and continue to walk through her day even if her mind was partially disengaged.
Her purse and briefcase were already packed and ready. Her car keys hung on a hook beside the door.
She drove to work. She parked her car. She walked to Starbucks. She carried her coffee cup to the third floor of Blackwell, Hart & Cooper and stepped out of the elevator. She thanked her assistant, Sophie, for handing her the schedule for the day. She walked into her office and closed the door. She hung up her coat. Sat down at her desk. Stared at her Starbucks coffee cup and tried to push this brain fog away that had descended on her.
Taking a deep breath, she carefully placed her coffee to the left side of her immaculate desk, turned on her computer, and reached for her briefcase.
It wasn’t there. It was back at the apartment. Still sitting on her kitchen table. She had forgotten the second most important tool in her arsenal. The first, of course, was her cell phone. At least it was in the inner pocket of her suit jacket. She pulled it out and stared at it. News like she had received needed to have someone at the other end of the phone willing to listen and grieve. She did know people she could call who would verbally express sympathy and compassion. The problem was, she couldn’t think of one person who would truly care.
Creating the kind of career she had took one’s complete focus. Making the kind of grades that she had made in school while competing against so many other smart young law students had taken everything she had. Achieving her goals did not leave time for long lunches with girlfriends or hanging out with friends over the weekend. It was a marvel that she had even managed to shoehorn Michael into her life.
The pull was strong to call Michael, but how could she? Especially now? He would think the only reason she was reaching out to him was because she was sick. Even though he would be angry, he would feel honor-bound to take care of her. That was the kind of man he was.
She had no intention of becoming an object of her estranged husband’s pity. No. Calling Michael was not an option. She would figure out a way to take care of herself by herself.
There would be surgery, radiation, chemo, nausea, loss of hair… her mind did not allow her to pull any punches or lessen the blow. She needed to face reality so that she could make plans.
But how could someone make plans for something like this? People’s bodies responded in different ways, there was no set schedule. She would have to ask for a medical leave of absence. Bradley would not be happy about it, but he had to realize that this was not something over which she had any control. It wasn’t as though she were asking for a vacation.
Come to think of it, she did have nearly a month of vacation leave saved up. That would help. Assuming she survived. If she didn’t survive, it wouldn’t exactly be an issue.
She pushed a button on her phone. “Please hold any calls this morning, Sophie. I have some important things that I need to focus on this morning.”
“No problem,” her assistant said.
Cassie locked her office door. Then she went to her third-floor window and looked down at the street. There were quite a few people walking on the sidewalks and others driving along in their cars. All of them with lives and projects and private worries. She wondered how many had ever dealt with something like what she was going through.
She had worked for so long to create this life—the kind of life that she had envisioned since childhood. How long had she planned for a good-paying career? If she remembered correctly, it had been in third grade that some of the girls in her school had called her “trailer trash.” She had walked home that day and seen the broken-down trailer park where she and her mother lived for what it was—a place for poor people to live. That was when she vowed to herself that, when she grew up, no one could ever make fun of her again. She had carried that resolve with her ever since. It had not been easy, but she had been true to her vow. She had made it.
Now, unless her body responded extremely well to treatment, it appeared that her life might be over before it had truly begun. She was only twenty-nine years old and most of those years had been spent getting ready to begin her life. There were so many things she had wanted to do; now it was anyone’s guess as to whether or not she would ever get to do any of them.
Making the effort to go back to her apartment to retrieve her briefcase suddenly seemed overwhelming. It was a small thing to cry over, but she felt her throat closing up and tears began to well behind her eyes.
The charcoal-gray suit she was wearing had been specifically tailored for her body. It was one of her favorite outfits. A power suit, so to speak, and she was very careful with it. Her shoes had been carefully chosen to match. Even on sale they had cost several hundred dollars. Her manicure was perfect, as was her carefully-highlighted auburn hair.
And yet none of it meant anything to her as she ignored her expensive clothes, crumpled to the heavily-carpeted floor, and began to cry. There were all sorts of people buzzing around inside this office building. There were people milling about on the sidewalks and the streets. She was surrounded with people, and yet she felt completely alone.
Chapter 33
Cassie cried until she was sick. Fortunately, her office included a small bathroom. She had been pleased just over a year ago when she got high enough in the pecking order to have an office that included a view and a private bathroom.
When everything was over and the tears stopped, she washed her face, blew her nose, and reapplied her makeup fr
om a kit she kept in a drawer. The makeup was good, but it wasn’t quite good enough.
When she finished, her eyes were still red and swollen, her skin was still blotchy, and she was furious with herself. Other women might fall apart emotionally, but she did not. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d actually cried. She considered crying a waste of time. Quickly, she rummaged around in her purse for a pair of sunglasses to hide the damage. She had been a fool to try to come in to work today.
With sunglasses in place, a scarf wound around her head and her coat buttoned up to her chin, she applied a layer of lipstick and left her office.
“Going out to lunch?” Sophie asked as Cassie passed by her desk. “You don’t want me to order anything for you?”
“I’m not feeling very well,” Cassie said. “I might have a touch of flu. I’m going home to keep from spreading it around.”
“Your nose is red,” Sophie said. “I hope you feel better soon.”
“If you would reschedule my afternoon appointments, I would appreciate it.”
It was the first time since she had begun to work here five years ago that she had taken a sick day.
“You going out for lunch?” Bradley said, as he came around the corner and found her waiting at the elevator. “Mind if I join you?”
Cassie debated. It was one thing to turn down his dinner invitation. It was entirely another to turn down a friendly lunch. Right now, talking to Bradley was the last thing she wanted to do but he would have to know what was going on with her, especially if she was going to have to ask him for leave of absence. The surgery was scheduled in four days. Her doctor had felt there was no time to waste. She couldn’t put off telling her boss.
“Of course,” she said. “There are some things I need to discuss with you anyway.”
Bradley had his coat draped over his arm. It was cashmere, she noticed. Of course it was cashmere. How could Bradley possibly wear anything less?
Love Rekindled: Book 3 Page 15