“I know,” Jane said. “Your mother.”
“I’m sorry.” He spent too much time apologizing to Jane.
“It’s all right. I understand. Really I do.”
“If I can come back, I will.”
She shook her head. “Your father is out tonight, remember. She might be anxious if you’re not around.”
“I could call Gertrude to come back.”
“She was there all day. It’s your turn. She needs her family.”
Matthew sighed. “You’re too perfect.”
“No, I’m not. I just remember what it was like when my mom was sick.”
That was a lonely stretch for both of them. Jane left college for three semesters when her mother fell ill and ultimately lost her life. By the time her father had his wits again, Jane had to work so hard to make up lost ground that Matthew hardly saw her for another year after that. Her graduation was delayed, and she had to go home for a period of time before she could make her own plans. But finally, after so much lost time, she was here, in Maple Turn with a job and an apartment. They saw each other every day.
And every day Matthew thanked God.
And every day guilt shot through him for letting her come, for continuing to let her believe they could be planning a future, that any day now he might put a ring on her finger.
“Keep trusting, Matthew,” Jane said. “I would have been lost without my faith when my life was in such upheaval and I didn’t know what the future held. Don’t lose yours.”
He leaned in and kissed the lips he did not deserve. Her faith would have to be enough for both of them.
“Go.” Jane put all ten fingertips on Matthew’s chest and pushed him away. “I’ll try to get a long lunch break tomorrow and come by Ryder.”
“What do you see in this place?” he said.
“It’s an adorable town. I fell in love with it the first time you brought me here to meet your parents.”
“That was a mistake.” In a moment of weakness, he’d admitted to his mother he’d finally met a nice girl. There was no backing out after that. Maybe he’d done it so he couldn’t back out. “Are you sure you love me, or is it just Maple Turn?”
“You, silly. But it doesn’t hurt that you come from just the sort of town I’ve always imagined raising a family in. I can’t believe they needed a second librarian when I needed a job!”
He kissed her forehead. “Okay. I’m going.”
Grinning, she leaned against the wall and watched him walk backward until he bumped into his Oldsmobile.
Matthew waved and pulled away from the curb. Jane thought he had good prospects and said she didn’t much care where he worked, but she was increasingly attached to Maple Turn. It was just as well. Realistically, his options were limited. He couldn’t leave his mother, not when he was the reason she was the way she was.
And Alyce loved Jane. Everybody loved Jane. Matthew certainly did.
He banged the steering wheel. It wasn’t fair. He wanted a life with Jane. She deserved that ring on her finger. But didn’t she also deserve the truth?
Driving out to the big house took only a few minutes. As he expected, Gertrude was gone, and Alyce was in the kitchen fixing tea, signaling the beginning of her protracted bedtime routine. For years Judd, Gertrude, and Matthew—who was twenty-five now—surrounded Alyce with structure and routines. It was part of keeping her busy and her mind occupied so she didn’t slip into vacancy. There was always the next thing to do, even if it was just time to make a cup of tea and sweeten it with precisely two teaspoons of clover honey.
“Hi, Mama.”
“Mattie, there’s my good boy.”
His little-boy nickname had crept back into Alyce’s vocabulary recently. Judd glanced at Matthew the first few times she used it but made no vocal objection.
“You’re having your tea,” he said. “I’ll fix your snack.”
“You’re so sweet.” Alyce carried her tea to the kitchen table, sat in her chair, and reached for the honey.
Matthew took a small plate from the cabinet, laid out eight square crackers, layered tabs of yellow cheese on four of them and spread cream cheese on the others. It was the same every evening. Tea and honey, cheese and crackers.
“Now where is my Ladies’ Home Journal?” Alyce glanced around the kitchen and started to scoot her chair back.
“I’ll get it.” Matthew found the latest issue on top of the stack at the end of the counter where Gertrude always made sure to leave it, and laid it on the table. He sat in the spot where he’d been eating breakfast since he was fourteen except when he was away at school.
“And how is Jane?”
Matthew smiled. “Jane is well. Thank you for asking.”
“You know, I was beginning to think you were too picky,” Alyce said. “All the times I asked if you had met a nice girl and all the times you said no. Then you brought Jane home, and I realized you were just holding out for the very best.”
“She really is the very best, isn’t she?”
“I’ve become quite fond of her. I think your grandparents have as well.”
“I’m glad to hear that, Mama.”
“You should marry her.”
“You think so?”
“She’s no fool, Mattie. Don’t dawdle so long that you cause her to have doubts.”
Matthew let the advice settle in. His mother spoke truth. The rest of the Ryder family truth is what concerned him. He would love to rush back over to Jane’s apartment, propose, take her in his arms, smother her with kisses, plan a wedding for as soon as possible, and never let her go. But she was entitled to know what life she was signing up for—and why.
Telling her would give her every reason to walk away.
Not telling her would force her to be an unwitting player in a lie.
Someday Matthew wanted to know what lie Judd told Alyce in order to give her what she wanted. When did she learn the truth, whatever it was? Alyce had been fragile ever since the night he asked her about the room. He’d never been back in it or discussed it again. He wouldn’t talk to her. The risk that she’d break even more dramatically was one he wasn’t willing to take. That didn’t mean it wasn’t a festering wound weeping for disinfectant and debridement or that he didn’t pick at it from time to time.
“Where’s Pop tonight?”
“A late meeting over in St. Charles. He said not to wait up.”
Matthew tried to think if Ryder Manufacturing had current business in St. Charles that required an evening meeting but shook away the query fairly quickly. He didn’t pretend to track Judd’s schedule, and it was probably better that way. He had his own portfolio of responsibilities now, overseeing machinery and productivity to make sure there was no shortage of supplies to meet the demand the sales team created. As long as he had time this evening, that’s all he wanted to know.
Tonight. For Jane.
Matthew pushed his chair back. “I think I’ll go for a walk. You’ll be all right?”
“I have my tea, my snack, and my magazine.”
From here the routine was about forty minutes of grazing the cheese and crackers and flipping pages. He had time.
Outside Matthew strode around the trees to Ryder Manufacturing. As a grown man and a junior executive, he had easy access to the building with his own set of keys to every part of the building except Judd’s office, but he could easily pick that lock and the desk with one hand. He’d done it before.
Judd had moved the keys from the bottom of the phone. Matthew had looked twice before in the last few years. As he’d gotten older, and spent more time around the business, he was better at getting into Judd’s head. Judd could carry keys on his person, chained to his vest or trouser pocket, but he would never take the chance that he might be caught in an automobile accident or other medical emergency that could result in the loss of these keys. No. They were in the office, locked somewhere.
This time Matthew didn’t waste time picking the lock to the desk. Instead
, he stood before the trio of built-in bookcases behind the desk constructed from matching cherrywood. He scanned the gaps between sets of books and business binders, looked behind vases and photos and heavy brass bookends, examined suspicious bindings of books that didn’t sit quite square on the shelves, sliding doors, and drawers. Picking a couple of locks on the sliding doors and drawers was so simple that Matthew chuckled, but nothing of value was behind them. A paperweight drew his eye. It held no papers in place on the shelf where it sat, and it wasn’t particularly attractive for decorative purposes, though it was heavy.
Matthew turned it upside down and flipped it from front to back.
And there it was. A felt backing not quite sealed at the edges. He picked at it and found a tiny lock that required a specially made key.
Or a moderately good lock pick. He was better than moderately good.
Inside a miniature cavity were three keys, more than he’d hoped for. He was prepared to jimmy everything if necessary, including the file cabinet, but keys were so much cleaner.
The room was much as he remembered from almost ten years earlier with some improvements. The overhead lights had been updated, and the bathroom now had two sinks rather than one. Both looked like they’d been used recently for haircuts and not quite wiped clean. Dark strands mixed with red and blond in the corners. Some of the bunks had rumpled bedding, as if someone was supposed to come in and tidy up. A diaper pail smelled like it needed emptying.
A key got him into the wooden file cabinet he hadn’t tried to pick the last time, and a rapid rifling ran a list of names. Baker. Delancy. Edgar. Ferris. Garrett. Harrell. Jerrett. Karroll. Mulligan. Newman. Orman. Polis. Dozens of others. Matthew pulled out several at random and looked at dates and notes before shoving them back in and pulling out more. Aimless methods fell into a pattern, and Matthew became progressively unpersuaded that Judd’s involvement was simply an occasional way station.
Matthew seethed.
Along with the names were numbers. Some could easily be dates without the benefit of separation between days, months, and years, but the others? More likely amounts. Dollars. Matthew had seen enough of the Ryder company books to recognize that at least some of the dates and amounts, when taken together, corresponded to significant infusions of Judd’s capital into the company during expansion schemes.
He yanked open another drawer, and then another. In the bottom drawer, there they were, nestled beneath a set of folded cloths and children’s pillows. Actual ledgers. Doctored books. On top of whatever was happening to children in this room, Judd was laundering money. The odds that the two activities were separate were zero, in Matthew’s eyes.
He slammed the drawers closed, shut off the lights, locked all the doors behind him, kept the keys and ledgers, and went home.
Alyce looked up from the sink, where she was rinsing her dishes.
“Heading up to bed?” Matthew said.
“I think so,” she said. “How about you?”
“Just popped back to check on you.” He kissed her cheek. “I realized I have some work to do over at the office. Will you be all right here?”
She waved him off. “Certainly. Go on.”
“I’m going to leave Pop a note on his desk in case he needs me.”
“That’s my good Mattie. You’re so thoughtful.”
Matthew walked his mother to the bottom of the stairs and watched her reach the top before going to his father’s study and composing a stern note and leaving it square in the middle of the cleared desktop. Judd always stopped in his office when he came in the house. There could be no question of his finding it.
Then he locked up the house and went back to the factory, where he sat in Judd’s chair behind Judd’s desk, with only the small green banker’s light glowing, to wait. Three keys were in his pocket, and two ledgers in his lap. His own breath, in and out, in and out, was the only sound he heard for most of an hour, but he didn’t move from behind that desk. Questions screamed in his brain. Fury roiled in his heart, disquieted by the halting effort to pray for courage that he was doing the right thing finally. But he held perfectly still, waiting.
At last he heard footsteps in the hall, and the door opened.
“What the devil are you doing, Matthew?”
“Sit down, Judd.”
“Get out from behind my desk.” Judd came toward him.
Matthew stood up. “Sit down, Judd—over there.”
Matthew’s full height was six foot four, and eventually his shoulders had broadened. He was not afraid.
“You’re going to tell me the truth,” Matthew said. “All of it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Judd sat down in a chair generally meant for the guests in his office.
Matthew raised the two ledgers in one hand. “I have all the keys, Judd.”
“You have no right.” Judd’s face flashed red and his hands went to the arms of the chair.
“Don’t get up,” Matthew said. “How many children? Let’s start there.”
Judd pushed out breath. “You don’t want to do this.”
“I’m a grown man, Judd. I can decide what I want to do. How many children?”
“Why does it matter to you?”
“Do you even know?”
Judd paused. “I would have to check the records.”
“Hundreds?”
Judd was silent.
“Thousands? Thousands of children, Judd?” Matthew sank back into the chair behind the desk. “This whole enterprise, all the ‘capital’ that you raised, is built on selling children?”
“You make it sound like such nasty business.”
“It is nasty business, Judd. People’s children. You were stealing people’s children and selling them.”
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s true, isn’t it?”
“I told you a long time ago that occasionally I help with some adoptions so children can have the loving homes they deserve.”
“That’s the lie you like to tell yourself—and Mama. You’ve been telling yourself the story so long that you want to believe it because it would fit into this nice life you’ve built. But it’s not true. Even Mama knows that’s not true.”
“These children need good homes, Matthew. I help make sure they get them. Solid homes with loving parents who can give them everything they need. There is nothing unsavory about it.”
“Except the part where you take them from parents who want them.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Don’t I? Mrs. Liston that day in the clinic?”
“She was unstable even before she had a baby.”
Bile rose in the back of Matthew’s throat. “I’m inclined to believe her at the moment. That nurse who gave a baby to a man and didn’t care about dropping his blanket? I was only four, but I knew something was wrong.”
“If you have such a sharp memory, then you know good and well I was in a sales meeting when that happened.”
“But you were in some other meetings right before that. Who knows what you arranged?”
“I don’t run this business, Matthew. I am a way station.”
“Then you are a very well paid way station, from the looks of these ledgers.”
“The activity comes with certain risks, so yes, it commands a certain level of compensation.”
“I don’t believe you, Judd. How can I be certain you are not directing this whole business—where the children come from and where they go?”
“Because I’m telling you.”
“And you have such a long record of telling me the truth—even about myself.”
“I did that for your mother. It wasn’t even supposed to be you.”
“What does that mean?”
“She saw you and misunderstood.”
Matthew’s stomach clenched. He had to choose one path of questions at a time.
“If you are not directing this… you are in a position that you could bring it down?”
Matthew reached under the desk for Judd’s wastebasket and vomited the dinner he’d shared with Jane. He would never eat crab legs again. Shaking, he fumbled in his pocket for a handkerchief to wipe his mouth.
“Did you steal me yourself, or did you get someone else to do it?” he asked. A woman with a baby in a buggy in a store turns her head for just a moment, and when she looks back, the baby is gone. Was that it?
“I promised your mother I would never tell her—or you.”
“Don’t I have a right to know? I’m not a child any longer.” A baby left in the care of someone the parents trusted, but gone when they returned. Was that it?
Judd put his hands in his trouser pockets and shook his head. “I gave her my word. You saw what happened to her a few years ago when you disobeyed me and started asking questions. I won’t do that to her again.”
“I want to know, and you are going to tell me.” Matthew swallowed back the bile rising from his stomach. A young father uncertain how to care for his infant son who is sick takes him to a clinic, relieved to hand him to a nurse, and never sees him again. Was that it?
They glared at each other.
“Is my file in that cabinet?” Matthew said. Maybe he was listed under another name. Were the names he saw birth names or adopted names—or something transitory?
“No.”
“I want it. I want to see it for myself.”
Judd pressed his lips in and out before exhaling. “I will do this. I will leave everything I know about you—which is very little, so don’t get your hopes up—in a sealed envelope with the lawyers with instructions that you are not to receive it or unseal it while your mother is alive. I don’t want you looking for your other family. It would break her heart.”
“Judd, she could live a long time still. I hope she will live a long time.”
In the Cradle Lies Page 19