“Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine you’d do this so fast.”
“Neither did I. But sometimes it just takes breaking through one wall. I’m glad it happened that way—for you. You can go home with some answers, at least.” Perhaps this start would give him hope for what was to come. And sustenance for the journey.
“Where does Flor live?”
“Springfield, Missouri. She said quite a few of the family still live in various parts of Missouri or southern Illinois. You can meet them in person if you want to. In the meantime, she’d like to get some of them together for a Skype call. Would you like to do that?”
“How soon?” Tucker nearly jumped out of his chair.
“Flor is available tomorrow morning.”
“Then so am I.”
Nia swooped in balancing three plates. “Celebration eggs all around!”
“I’m Skyping my long-lost cousins tomorrow.” Tucker beamed.
“Well, there you have it.”
They set up to Skype the next day in Jillian’s office, where it was quieter than the Inn and where Tucker could take advantage of the large monitor to see all the faces on the screen.
“I let Flor know the call would come from your Skype ID.” Jillian tapped the back of her chair, inviting Tucker to sit. “Laurie Beth and I will sit right across the desk if you need anything.”
Nolan cleared his throat in the doorway.
“And of course my dad is hovering, as he likes to do.”
“You didn’t think I would miss this, did you?” Nolan said.
“Just don’t sing in the middle of it.” Jillian shook her finger at him.
He wagged his errant eyebrow.
Jillian’s office had needed a thorough cleaning, and this was just the occasion to motivate her last night. The desk was clutter-free, the shelves dusted, and the keyboard devoid of food crumbs.
Tucker sat in Jillian’s chair, and Laurie Beth leaned over for a kiss before taking a seat beside Jillian across the desk. They both watched the concentration in Tucker’s face as he logged into Skype and initiated a call to Flor’s ID.
A few seconds later a voice said, “Hello? Is that Tucker?”
His breath caught and his eyes darted around the screen. “It is. Wow.” He raised a finger to count heads on the screen. “Twelve of you.”
“I’m Flor. I spoke to your friend Jillian. Everybody wanted to be here, but this is all that could manage their schedules.”
“It’s quite a turnout on such short notice.” Tucker’s Adam’s apple seemed to get stuck. “I’m touched. I don’t know what to say.”
“He looks like Gramps, don’t you think?” another voice said.
Laurie Beth raised a hand to cover her mouth. Jillian gripped her other hand.
“That’s my sister Taryn,” Flor said. “And yes, you do look a bit like our grandfather.”
“Alfred,” Tucker said.
“That’s right. I see it most around the eyes.”
Flor made introductions of representatives from three generations.
“People always said I looked like my grandfather.” Tucker lifted his phone. “I have a photo here, one of my favorites.”
“That’s Dennis?” Flor said.
Tucker nodded. “He was Matthew to us, but at the end he knew he was Dennis. That’s how we found you.”
“I have some pictures too.”
Tucker hunched toward the screen. It was all Jillian could do to stay in her chair and not go around the desk to gawk at what someone in Missouri was holding up for Tucker to view. Matthew’s parents. His sisters as they grew through the years. Masses of cousins through the generations.
“I want you to know something,” Flor said at the end of the photo narration. “I thought a lot about this since Sunday, and I think it’s important. Our grandparents never gave up on Dennis. Never. He was always loved, even in absence. They were never afraid or ashamed to speak his name. Our mother continued the traditions. We remembered his birthday every year growing up, because we knew he was out there somewhere, and we prayed for his safety and happiness.”
“Even when our parents were gone,” Taryn said, “we girls still prayed for Dennis. He was always our uncle, our mother’s brother.”
“He never knew,” Tucker said. “But I’m sure he wondered. I only wish I could tell him now.”
“It’s too late to tell him,” Flor said, “but we can tell you what happened—if you want to know, the way our mother told us.”
“Yes!” Tucker’s voice cracked and his face pinched, but he nodded.
“They were all little when it happened. They lived not too far from the church, only a few blocks, and he was such a good baby that Grams thought it would be all right to take him to a ladies’ meeting when he was three weeks old. She was ready to get out of the house, I think. That’s what Mother always said. It was only for an hour or so. On the way home, there was a young woman carrying packages, and she stumbled and dropped them. Of course Grams wanted to help, so she took her hands off the pram just for a bit to help pick them up. It can’t have been more than half a minute in broad daylight. She realized later it was an intentional diversion, but in those few seconds, the baby was gone from the pram.”
Tucker squeezed his eyes between thumb and forefinger, heaving breath.
“Our oldest aunt,” Flor continued, “claimed there was someone else no one else saw. A man in a dark suit. He must have taken Dennis. They couldn’t see where he could have disappeared to so quickly. Maybe an alley or into a doorway. No one else on the street just then remembered seeing him, and the word of a five-year-old didn’t count for anything.”
“So fast!” Tucker said. “They must have been lying in wait, looking for someone with a baby who was vulnerable, susceptible.”
“Grams was so sure the new baby was going to be a boy after three girls that she knitted a blue gown and cap and had it ready three months before Dennis was born. Gramps was so pleased to have a son. After they lost Dennis, Grams and Gramps never wanted another baby. It was bad enough they lost him, but the accusations were awful.”
“Accusations?” Tucker said.
“That they were unfit parents or they wouldn’t have lost him. That Grams was neglectful. That maybe the girls should have been taken into care for their own good. That perhaps they had even killed him and made up the story. But none of that was true. It was a happy home. They all said so.”
Laurie Beth’s tears splashed across flushed cheeks. Tucker’s breath caught with every rise of his chest.
“I can’t tell you what this means to me,” he said. “I want to meet you all when I get home.”
“We’ll organize a proper family reunion in your honor,” Flor said. “You’ll fit right in. You’ll see. Bring anyone else who wants to come.”
Tucker’s eyes raised above the monitor to hold Laurie Beth’s. “I’ll start with the woman who will be the mother of my own children.”
It took another five minutes and a dozen more promises for Flor and Tucker to bring themselves to end the call. As soon as they did, Laurie Beth shot out of her chair and into Tucker’s arms.
Nolan came out of the shadows and slung an arm around Jillian.
“I just did something Grandpa Matt would have loved to do.” Tucker’s throaty voice was barely audible. “And when I get back to Missouri, I will do something else he always wanted to do. I may never fully understand his reasons for not doing it, but I shouldn’t have doubted him. He wanted to, and it tore him apart that he couldn’t. People always say, ‘Peace to his memory.’ I’m going to make sure that means something.”
Laurie Beth stroked his cheek. “Let’s go home and get to work. Tomorrow.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Keep up, old man.” Jillian zipped her perfectly warm jacket up to her chin and pulled her blue knit cap snug around her ears. “I don’t intend to miss saying goodbye because of a slowpoke.”
“They’re not going to leave without saying
goodbye to us.”
“They do have a plane to catch.”
“There will be other planes.”
“I’m leaving.” Jillian went out the back door.
“Hey! Wait for me.”
The door closed behind Jillian. Nolan was still getting his arms into his jacket as she set her stride. Crunching over snow in boots would be slower than a spring walk, but she wanted to burn off built-up nervous energy. Events of the last week were simultaneously exhausting, exhilarating, breathtaking, daring, distracting, mind-boggling.
So many words.
“How are you doing, Silly Jilly?” Nolan caught up and fell in step.
“Well, Dad, a little like I’m going down Hidden Run blind. Stolen babies! I was incredibly blessed to find Matthew’s family in one day because I had the name of his parents and a good guess of where they lived, but it won’t be like that with all the others.”
“I know.”
“Judd Ryder would have had good reason to protect himself with the way he kept his records, not look out for the kids.”
“Again, right.”
“But we can’t just walk away from Tucker, not after all this.”
“I know that too.”
“So we’re going to do it, aren’t we, Dad?”
“Yes, we are. To the best we can, Jilly, to the best we can.”
Jillian looped an arm through her dad’s. “Have I mentioned lately how awesome I think you are?”
“Nope. Only how slow you think I am.”
“Well, work on that.” Jillian stepped off the sidewalk into a mound of snow and kicked up a flurry of white toward her father.
“Hey!”
Jillian stayed ahead of her father for the remaining blocks to the bed-and-breakfast, determined not to let him know how much effort it took. She hadn’t had a good run since cold weather set in. He was a year-round power walker and, of late, a skier, and his skills stood up well to her youth.
It felt good to laugh as they tumbled up the steps to the Inn and through the front door.
Nia looked up from behind the reception desk in the parlor. “What’s gotten into you two?”
“Oh, just the usual,” Nolan said.
“That’s what scares me.” Nia threw her long dark braid over her shoulder. “They’re in the dining room. I suspect Laurie Beth might be loading up her carry-on with extra scones and thinks I haven’t noticed.”
“I knew I liked her.” Jillian passed the pile of luggage in the hall signaling the imminent departure.
“You made it!” Tucker’s grin matched his relaxed shoulders, and he and Nolan exchanged a slap-style handshake.
“We just wanted to say again that we are all in with you,” Jillian said. “Whatever we can do to help, we’ll try, or we’ll find the right people.”
“I know it’s all an incredible long shot.” Tucker’s features sobered. “Getting the best advice I can is the first step, and we’ll figure it out from there.”
“That’s exactly the spirit,” Nolan said.
They all turned their heads toward a knock. Kristina stood at the entrance to the dining room.
“Kris!” Jillian pivoted and closed the few yards between them. They stepped into the hall.
“I heard Tucker was leaving today,” Kris said softly.
“Small town.”
“Yep. Do you think it would be all right if I talked to him?”
Jillian glanced over her shoulder at Tucker and Laurie Beth. “Actually, I think it would be good for him.” And you.
Jillian stepped back into the dining room and caught Tucker’s eye and beckoned with a couple of fingers. He looked past her at Kris, leaned over to whisper something in Laurie Beth’s ear before kissing her cheek, and then came toward the hall.
“I’ll… let you two… whatever.” Jillian got out of the way. From the far end of the dining room, Laurie Beth’s wide blue eyes watched, and Jillian went to her.
“It’s okay,” Laurie Beth said.
“I’m glad to hear you say that.” Jillian gave Laurie Beth’s shoulder a squeeze. “He loves you.”
“I know. I feel bad for Kris. So does Tucker. I hope he’s apologizing.”
“So he told you?”
“Everything. He just didn’t know what to say to Kris—and everything else has been so overwhelming. But I think he would have called or written to her eventually.”
“He’s a good man, Laurie Beth.”
“Of course he is. He just lost his way for a few days while he was here. It can happen to any of us. That’s why we all need each other.”
“And you are a wise woman.”
Tucker and Kris embraced. Kris wiped her eyes, turned, and left without seeking out Jillian. Perhaps later she would want to tell Jillian about her final conversation with Tucker. If so, Jillian would listen. If not, Jillian would be still and present for her friend.
Nolan unfolded a half sheet of paper and had it ready when Tucker returned.
“Here’s contact information for two attorneys I’ve known for thirty years,” Nolan said. “They went into practice together after law school. You should hear from them soon, but if you don’t, feel free to reach out.”
“This is great.” Tucker read the names before refolding the paper and stowing it in his wallet. “Thank you for talking to them.”
“Expect that this could take some time,” Nolan said. “Be patient. Remember that you are the client. Your attorneys will want to protect Ryder Manufacturing, protect your family, protect you, set up the foundation properly. We won’t really know the extent of things until you see the files for yourself and get some help interpreting them. There could be hundreds of people affected—even thousands. Some limitations will have to apply for the restitution you can offer.”
“I understand.”
“It’s not an area of law I claim expertise in. Even my law school classmates are likely to seek other expert counsel, considering the unique and complex circumstances.”
“Of course.”
“And there will be publicity. Once the nature of the foundation becomes known, it will be difficult to contain the story.”
Tucker blinked. “I hadn’t really thought about that.”
“You’ll figure it out. Just get help at every turn.”
“I will.” Tucker reached for Laurie Beth’s hand. “The most important thing is that I have what my grandfather never got. Truth. Information. Faces. No more lies—or untold truths—in the family. No more secret rooms.”
“‘And ye shall know the truth,’” Jillian said, “‘and the truth shall make you free.’”
“I think that’s what Grandpa Matt wanted most of all. To be free and stand in the truth. It makes me sad that I’ll never know for sure what held him back.”
“He’d be so proud of you now,” Laurie Beth said.
Nia came in. “Not that I don’t love having you here, but don’t you two have a plane to catch?”
Tucker grabbed his jacket. “Absolutely! Are you ready, my beautiful bride-to-be?”
“The wedding!” Jillian said.
“Watch your mail,” Laurie Beth said. “It’s still a few months off, but you are definitely on the list!”
“Too bad you aren’t staying just a little longer,” Nia said. “Veronica and Luke’s winter party theme is right up your alley.”
Jillian and Nolan stared at her.
“You know the theme?” Jillian said.
“Uh-oh.” Nia clamped her hand over her mouth.
“You can’t take it back now,” Jillian said.
“I found out by accident. But Marilyn said it was Tucker’s idea to do something with those old photos of Veronica’s grandfather’s cousin and the old ski resorts. She’s going to start by displaying them at the party for her ski theme. Then they’re going to use your postcard idea and sell them around town.”
“Those boxes came from Veronica’s family?” Jillian’s mouth hung open in disbelief.
“Some third c
ousin or something,” Nia said, “who lives higher up in the mountains.”
Tucker laughed. “Then I guess my work in Canyon Mines is finished.”
In a cyclonic burst of activity, Tucker loaded luggage into his rental truck, and he and Laurie Beth headed toward Denver.
“I don’t know about you,” Nolan said, “but I have a hankering for some ice cream.”
Jillian smiled. How Kris was feeling was on her dad’s mind as well. “Well, we are halfway there. Might as well.”
“Then let’s go.”
“But no singing.”
AUTHOR’S NOTE
While I was growing up, my grandmother’s sister was one of my favorite parts of visiting my grandparents. Aunt Lennie was a ball of spunk and personality, and she’d pile us into her boat of a car and take us down to the main street of the small town where my mother grew up for dime store shopping and drugstore treats. I don’t remember how old I was before I realized the sisters also had a brother. I don’t recall ever meeting him. A shroud hung over the reasons why. When I was older and understood more, I could also see the shame factor at play.
Even a little closer to my story, after both of my parents were gone, my siblings had opportunity to talk about pieces of what we didn’t know or understand very well about our own loving father. Something similar happened when my father-in-law died, and his sisters shared details of a defining season of his young adulthood that his children had never known. The silences and gaps were best explained by shades of shame and pieces of the past that parents don’t always feel their children need to know.
As a parent, I understand that.
Yet as any person who has experienced shame knows—which is all of us—shame is a powerful shaper of our personal stories and certainly has the potential to shape the generations as well, even when shame is undeserved. It separates branches of the family. It shuts down conversation. It leaves questions unanswered. It reframes the narrative to something more bearable even if less truthful.
The silences and gaps in our generational stories may also remind us that we don’t always understand the reasons for the choices others make—and we may never. Our responsibility is to wrestle through our obligations to be truthful with ourselves first of all and in that truth find the courage to frame our choices in love.
In the Cradle Lies Page 26