by Cathy Elliot
No chance Mike Malone might deliver her wicker chair today. Not in these conditions. And Wally had phoned early--taking the day off. She guessed he deserved it, after all his help at the auction. And at Grey Gables.
Annie checked her watch. Alice should be here any time now. They were headed to the community center to meet with some members of the VFW at ten o’clock sharp. Though she no longer had the medals, Annie hoped the group could help identify the unidentified one from her verbal description. Or maybe she could attempt a drawing. And these men might know about the history of Stony Point’s military men and women. Who better to ask?
Anxious to be about the task, Annie pulled her navy jacket from the hall closet and tossed it across a chair. She also grabbed a long crocheted scarf of periwinkle wool to add a layer of warmth to her jeans and sweater.
Another quick glance outside to make sure Alice’s Mustang wasn’t idling in the driveway permitted Annie to sink onto the sofa and give Boots a few strokes.
“Lazy girl,” she said, scratching behind the feline’s ears. Not a care in the world. Wouldn’t that be nice? “Lucky girl,” she added, correcting herself.
All the events of the past couple of days rested on Annie’s shoulders. The quarrel with Kate had set her on an emotional seesaw. Thank goodness they ironed out that situation. But her former distress had been replaced by the theft of the medals and the creepy avalanche yesterday at the assisted-living place. Together, they produced more than a twinge of concern for her safety. That was silly. Annie was acting as an alarmist, she knew. But she couldn’t dismiss a niggling fear that something else was about to happen. Something bad.
A faint beep sounded from outside and she jumped up, waving at Alice through the window. Annie wrapped the scarf around her neck and shrugged into the coat. She picked up her purse and umbrella. After a loving goodbye pat to Boots, she dashed to the door, hand poised on the knob.
She gazed about the room one last time, appreciating all the memories made here, all she had been given. Her eyes rested on the overstuffed chair where Gram’s exquisite cross-stitched pillow once lay. Had it been a mistake to donate it to the community center auction? She really missed it.
As she locked the door behind her, Annie remembered she had no idea who had won the bid on the pillow or what price it had brought in.
No time to think about that now. She put it on her imaginary to-do list. Taking the porch steps as fast as she could without slipping, Annie rushed through the rain and into the warmth of Alice’s Mustang.
During the drive into town, Annie recounted her visit with Harold. “He knew Gram. In fact, he said that she was his first love.”
“Really? If that’s true, Harold and Betsy could be the young couple in the picture. It was in her attic, after all. Because the photos were stored with the medal,” Alice said, “he could be the owner of the Purple Heart. And that other one.”
“That’s what I thought too. But when I asked him if he’d ever been awarded any World War II medals, he said no! Almost like he was angry.”
“That’s odd,” Alice said.
“Maybe he was angry because he wasn’t awarded any.”
“That could explain it, I guess. He felt slighted?”
“He didn’t say.” Annie said. “In fact, he didn’t say much of anything. He was hoping to see his grandson Harry, who usually visits Saturdays. He was just sitting there, waiting, looking out to sea.”
“That’s sad. He should feel great about his accomplishments: a thriving three-generation family business, a grandson to carry on the family tradition and … maybe some military medals.”
“You’re right,” Annie said. “But he was so firm. Said he didn’t have any medals. Didn’t deserve any medals.”
“Oh well, at least we’ve found Betsy’s first love.” Alice seemed placated.
Annie shifted in her seat. “I am pretty sure we have. But there’s more.” She told Alice how Harold had said something happened that changed things for him and Betsy. And she married his best friend, Charlie Holden.
“I don’t want to think the worst. But did my grandpa somehow steal away his best friend’s girl?”
“No. That can’t be,” Alice said. “I don’t believe it.”
“It’s hard to imagine. But for me, this puzzle piece doesn’t fit. Not when I think about the character of my grandparents.” Annie looked distraught. “How could either of them be so deceitful?”
“There has to be another explanation,” Alice said as she pulled into the church parking lot. She stepped out into the rain and opened her umbrella, with a wave of her hand inviting Annie to share. They darted inside.
“Look at that dear man,” Alice said, as they peered around an open door. She pointed at an old gentleman in military garb typing into a computer at a long table. “I knew these people were always ready to help, through rain, sleet, or snow.”
“You’ve got your public servants mixed up. That’s the post office.” Annie said. “How come he’s the only one here?”
“One’s all we need.” Alice grabbed Annie’s hand and pulled her along into the room. A small American flag hung behind the man. Next to the flag, a sign was posted: “Deeds, not words.”
He looked up from beneath bushy white brows. “Good morning, ladies. I’m Commander Neil Bruce. How can an old soldier help?”
Alice nudged Annie forward.
“Well, I do have some questions, sir … er … Commander.” Annie didn’t know the proper protocol.
“Good. Take a seat, and I’ll get out of this program,” he said. “I need a break from writing this blasted post newsletter, anyway. Sure wish I knew as much about computers as my grandson. Sometimes I feel like a dunce.” Shaking his head, Commander Bruce tapped the keyboard a few more times before turning toward the women, clasping his hands on the table. “You have my full attention.”
Annie wasn’t sure how to start. “I found this medal, two medals, actually. One is a Purple Heart. But I don’t know what the other medal is.” Relying on her memory, she explained how it looked.
Commander Bruce stroked his chin, thinking. “Well, why don’t you just bring it by? Then I can tell you for sure.”
“I don’t have them anymore.” A rush of embarrassment swept over her, making her face burn. Might as well cut right to the truth. “I lost them. Or more accurately, they were stolen out of my car.”
“Too bad,” he said. “Someone must have fallen to win that Purple Heart. He ought to have that medal to honor his sacrifice.”
“She didn’t lose them on purpose!” Alice raced to Annie’s defense. “They were stolen, for pity’s sake.” She threw Annie an exasperated look.
The commander put his hands palm up. “You’re right. I was just thinking out loud.”
“Really, I feel terrible about the loss of the medals,” Annie said. And even worse after the commander’s comments. “Especially since my grandparents, Charles and Betsy Holden, kept them safe for so long.”
Commander Bruce brightened. “So you’re Charlie’s granddaughter? Well, I’ll be. Good man, Charlie. Took care of me onboard his hospital ship, the USS Beneficent. Because of him, I lived to polish my Purple Heart in person.” He grinned mischievously. “Instead of the duty falling to my widow.”
Annie sat up straight. Was this how Grandpa met Harold? Aboard a hospital ship when Harold was wounded? Of course, he hadn’t said he’d been wounded, but he also said he had no medals. What if he had been hurt and taken aboard the hospital ship and placed under Grandpa’s care? That would explain how the two men became friends. It made sense.
She glanced at Alice. Her excited expression told Annie they were thinking along similar lines. She turned her attention back to Commander Bruce. “I’m very proud of Grandpa Holden. And of his service.”
“I’m pretty sure Charlie never got a Purple Heart. Am I correct in assuming you don’t believe the medals to be his?”
Annie nodded.
“Can you draw a sketch of
the other medal?” The commander found a piece of scrap paper and pushed it toward Annie, along with a pencil.
This was exactly what she had hoped to do. Annie began to draw. When she had finished her rendition of the sheriff’s badge and the starred ribbon, she handed it to Alice, who took a look. “That’s it,” she said.
Commander Bruce pondered the picture. “That’s a Medal of Honor. Awarded for extreme bravery while engaged in action against an enemy. This is serious.”
“What do you mean?” Alice asked.
“Whoever stole it may be in big trouble. This particular medal is afforded special protection under federal law, and there is a big fine if anyone misuses it.”
That did sound serious. Was Annie in trouble?
Was driving a Medal of Honor around in the backseat of her car and allowing it to be stolen a crime?
She swallowed hard. “I trust it will turn up. That’s why we’re here.” Annie hoped she sounded sincere enough to keep her out of federal prison. “We definitely want to figure out the recipient’s identity.”
“Oh, that shouldn’t be too difficult. All the Medal of Honor winners are listed on the Internet.” For a noncomputer-kind-of-guy, Commander Bruce seemed to know exactly what to do. “Though I couldn’t take on the project myself. I can barely get out this newsletter.”
“Maybe we could ask Grace Emory over at the Stony Point Library,” Annie suggested. “I need to run by there, anyway.”
“Good idea!” The commander nodded. “It’s of the utmost importance to return the medal--both medals--to their rightful owner. And the sooner, the better. We don’t want them getting into the wrong hands.”
They thanked the commander and fled. Or Annie felt like they were fleeing as she rushed out of the room. Although they had learned much, it increased her feelings of guilt. Because of her, this highly prized, government-protected medal was out there with who knows whom.
She hoped it wasn’t too late to make amends.
“Where to next?” Alice asked, once they were tucked into the Mustang.
“Let’s take that side trip to the library. We can ask Grace Emory to do a search for information about Medal of Honor winners and then …” Annie’s voice trailed off, out of ideas.
“Good idea. We’ve learned a lot in the past couple of days. Or, rather, you have. Especially when you talked to Harold Stevens. And it’s more about what he didn’t say. You know?”
Annie nodded absently.
“What is it?” Alice asked, prodding her friend as she started the engine. “You have something else on your mind. I can tell.”
“There is something I haven’t told you,” Annie said.
Alice turned off the engine. “Why not? Don’t you trust me by now?”
“It isn’t that. It’s just that now it seems so … so … hard to believe. Like I’m being overly dramatic or something.” Annie envisioned the frightening episode on that narrow stone walkway behind Ocean View Assisted Living. Boulders bouncing down unbidden, threatening to bombard her as she tried not to slip to the rocky landing below. Or was that an exaggeration of the facts? All right, maybe it wasn’t boulders, but there were some hefty rocks involved.
“It could be important.”
Alice’s face turned serious. “What is it?”
“Or it might be nothing.”
Alice rolled her eyes. “Annie! Just tell me.”
Annie related her experience--the landslide and her narrow miss with injury. Or worse. “When I looked around, I didn’t see anyone. But also, I didn’t see any reason for the rocks to go rushing down the hillside by themselves. I’m not sure what happened.”
Alice had caught her breath as Annie described the situation at Ocean View. Now she blew it out in a relieved sigh. “I’m glad you’re all right. But I think you need to be cautious, Annie. It might be nothing, as you said, but it might be a warning.”
“A warning? Against what?”
“What if you are getting too close to something? What if someone is saying ‘back off’?” Alice said. “What then?”
“Then I say, bring it on.”
22
“Let’s stop at A Stitch in Time first,” Annie said to Alice as they drove toward the library. “I know the usual Hook and Needle Club meeting isn’t until tomorrow, but maybe we’ll catch Stella. She’s probably at home in this weather. But if she’s in town, she’ll be in the shop.”
Alice didn’t need a second invitation and found curbside parking only a few steps from the shop. Once inside, they hung their coats and scarves on the rack and turned to see who was in residence besides Mary Beth.
Stella sat in her comfy chair, her knitting spread across her lap. “I think the storm has done you both good.” She raised one eyebrow in approval.
Mary Beth laughed and came forward to hug Annie first and then Alice. It was as if the past week had never happened.
That was fine with Annie.
“Here, girls.” Mary Beth handed them some tissues to dry their faces. Soon they sat in the circle, but with no projects of their own.
“This feels unnatural,” Annie said, spreading empty hands. “And I’ve only been here a short time. I bet you feel even odder than I do, Alice.”
“Many times in my life I’ve felt odd.” Alice’s voice was expressive, as if starting a sermon. Then she stopped, looking each woman in the eye before delivering her punch-line. “But never more so than when I played a song for Annie on my new Autoharp. I played notes that have never been heard before. Or since. Now that, ladies, was odd.”
“The woman speaks the truth,” Annie said. “Though I’m sure all we’ll hear will be celestial sounds, once the instrument is in tune.”
“Thank you, my friend. I’ve long considered you an Autoharp expert.” Alice snuggled down into her chair, apparently not missing her cross-stitch project at all.
Stella’s knitting needles clicked along at only a moderate pace, possibly because she had a question for Annie. “A lot has happened since we last met. Kate tells us we were right about the mystery in your attic having a direct link to World War II. And that you found some military medals?”
Annie sat upright, ready to cross-examine. “Yes, I did. Sorry I wasn’t ready to talk about it last week. You all amazed me by figuring out so much with just a few clues. Especially since I didn’t mean to give out any.”
Alice sank down in her chair.
Annie winked at her and said nothing.
“Regarding the medals. I wish I knew something about them,” Stella said. She looked out into the distance. “Imagine Betsy keeping those hidden away all these years. Or maybe it was Charlie. I wonder why?”
“Oh.” Annie was disappointed. “I had hoped you might know something.”
“I’m sorry. But they are a mystery to me, as well.”
“I figured you must know. Everyone told me to talk to you: Alice, the mayor, and even Kate.” Annie paused, not wanting to mention the reason she hadn’t made the attempt.
Stella’s face took on an empathetic look. “I understand. But that is all behind us.”
Annie nodded, uncertain. “I need to tell you that the medals were stolen right out of my car. I’m not exactly sure when. It was my fault for not locking the doors.”
“Nonsense! One shouldn’t have to lock her doors in Stony Point. But I assure you, I will do so tonight.” Indignant, Stella frowned. “You are not at fault, Annie. The thief is at fault.”
“Yes. But even though they are gone, I’m more determined than ever to find their owner. Besides, Gram and Grandpa must have wanted them returned someday, or they wouldn’t have guarded them for so long.”
“Yes,” Stella said. “Betsy was always very purposeful in everything she did.”
“At first I thought it would be more difficult to put the pieces together without the medals, but I don’t think I need them after all. Alice and I now know that one is the Medal of Honor. And the other one is a Purple Heart.”
“My goodne
ss! A Medal of Honor? Wow,” Mary Beth said.
“But that’s simply not possible,” Stella said, stopping her knitting and leaning forward. “How could someone from Stony Point win such a prestigious medal and no one know about it?”
Annie wondered if Stella’s protest had more to do with the absence of any such historical information in the new cultural center she had opened recently. If Stella didn’t feature it in her center, had it happened at all?
“We were thinking maybe they belonged to Harold Stevens.” Annie tossed the theory out there like a trial balloon.
“Nonsense!” Stella said, again. “Harold Stevens is no more a hero than I am. Why, when he came home from the war, he was angry and bitter. Changed. And not for the better, I’ll tell you.”
Annie caught her breath, excited. “What do you mean? What do you know about Harold?”
“I know a lot about Harold Stevens. Those were good days, before the war. Before I left Stony Point. Of course you know I was younger than Betsy, but she took me under her wing and treated me like a sister. I attended a lot of events with her in those days.”
“What does that have to do with Harold?” Mary Beth asked.
“Betsy and Harold were high school sweethearts. I used to go with them sometimes to the movies. Betsy said I was her chaperone.”
Annie and Alice exchanged knowing looks. Another confirmation about Betsy and her first love.
“Harold was wild about her. And she was just as crazy about him. Everyone thought they would marry. But something happened.” Stella seemed subdued, her voice tinged with regret.
Annie shifted in her chair. Was she going to hear that her grandfather had stolen Harold’s girl? A knot formed in her stomach. She hesitated, and then finally asked, “What about my grandpa?”