by J. L. Salter
Diane expelled her breath with a whooshing sound. “Did you ever see the creep around town, since then?”
“Once. He was at the Somernites Cruise rally strutting around in his tight jeans, trying to find some other vulnerable female to victimize. When he spotted me, his face turned real pale, then he quickly disappeared among the antique pickups.”
“You didn’t turn out to be so vulnerable.”
Kelly laughed. “Yeah, with Pop’s persuader in my hands, J.D. thought he’d be singing soprano. Maybe he’ll have second thoughts when a woman behind a locked door tells him to leave.”
“Maybe not. Guys like him don’t learn much. Not ‘til they land in jail anyway.”
Kelly closed her eyes briefly. “I’m done with this cup. You need a refill?”
“Actually, I’m enjoying just sitting here. Weather’s nice and I’ve never been in this area before.”
“I guess I’ve had enough of their coffee… rather nasty actually. Yeah, this is a beautiful area.” Kelly thought quietly for a moment. “Well, as you can likely imagine, the whole J.D. experience was very jarring… really soured me on dating.” A loud pickup roared by and Kelly looked up. “Yikes!”
“What’s wrong?”
“Speak of the devil! That guy looked a lot like J.D.!”
“Was it?”
“Probably not.” Kelly rubbed a palm on her forehead. “Sometimes it happens. I’ll be thinking about that awful night and won’t be long before I see somebody who looks a lot like him. Couldn’t be J.D. in so many different places.”
“Unless he’s stalking you...”
“Not likely. Though he has been in a couple of nightmares.”
Diane’s face formed a question.
“Nothing to talk about on a pretty day like this.” Kelly faced away for a moment.
Diane watched her, but didn’t speak.
Shortly Kelly again faced her friend. “Uh, what were we talking about?”
“Let’s see, how you evidently got back to dating eventually.”
“Right, I’d dated a few guys in town. You know Fred Lee Means? State trooper.”
Diane nodded. “Haven’t met him, but you’ve mentioned him a few times.”
“Well, I dated his brother, Ted, a few times. Oh, and a guy I’ve worked for.”
“Could be dicey.”
“Well, I was working with him installing satellite dishes. Usually I’d do the inside stuff. But sometimes if I’d finished my part, or if he specifically needed me, I’d go out and help him. While we worked together, we’d talk. The more we talked, the better we got to know each other. The same things would make us both laugh. It felt so good to laugh again — with a man, I mean.”
Diane’s nod indicated she knew how it felt.
“In hot weather, working outside together, we’d raise a sweat.” Kelly patted the back of Diane’s hand, one pat. “I figured out something — once I’ve sweated with a man, it’s easy for me to imagine sweating with him. In other ways, if you know what I mean.”
“I’m trying to remember.” Diane smiled again.
“Well, one thing led to another. Neither of us had a hang up about being exclusive, so it was more comfortable. I needed periodic, um, companionship with someone I liked a lot. But I didn’t want all the baggage of promises and commitments and stuff.”
“Sounds like the divorce was pretty hard on you.”
Kelly shrugged. “Yeah, I felt really betrayed by Rob. As I had time to think back on it, it seemed like he’d just played me, almost from the get-go. Just hooked up with me to keep himself in groceries while he finished his degrees. I practically wrote his thesis for him! Most of his dissertation, too. But it wasn’t too long before he needed a better college to teach at, a bigger town to live in, and a younger girl in his bed.”
“That really stinks.”
“Old history. How did I get off on Rob?” Kelly shrugged again. “Guess I was listing my sordid love life since the divorce. You probably don’t want to hear all this anyway.”
“Actually I find it interesting, and a bit vicariously stimulating. Somewhat like reading a paperback romance.”
“Is that what my life sounds like?” Kelly laughed.
“Sorry, bad phrasing. I meant your story is interesting and I want to keep reading.” Diane paused. “So, how did Mitch fit in with all this? From something else you told me I had him figured for an exclusive type guy.”
“He is. It was pretty tough for him to know I’d been involved with other guys who are still my friends. Mitch is jealous as all get-out. It’s been a problem at times, even though I haven’t been with any of those guys since I’ve known Mitch.”
“So you have been exclusive with Mitch.”
“Yeah, we both have. But I needed Mitch to understand there aren’t any chains on me. On either of us. We’re together for as long as we’re both happy in the relationship, and as long as both of us love each other.”
“Some of Joe’s country kin would say you don’t cotton to the bridle.”
“Well, that pretty well covers it. Nobody’s going to put a bit in my mouth.”
“Not even Mitch?”
Kelly shook her head.
“So that’s why he rents out at the lake, and you’re in the cabin with two animals?”
Kelly nodded. “Poor guy. It was really hard for me to insert some space in our relationship. I literally had to send him away at first.”
Diane’s eyebrows arched into a question.
“You see, I had to be certain Mitch was really in love with me… and not that he’d just fallen for the first woman he got to know after his wife died. He was only here for a few weeks anyway. But I actually had to push him away, I guess you’d call it. So he’d have time to figure out did he love me, or did he love having somebody to be in love with? Of course, not just him. Me, too. I also needed time to figure out some things. I’d known him for less than a month at that point. We’d been through a lot together, but still, it’s not much time.”
Diane shifted her position to get the sun out of her eyes.
“Then about six weeks later, I realized I really missed Mitch, truly wanted to be with him. He felt the same way, so we started dating again.”
“He came back from Texas, did you say?”
Kelly nodded. “It was confusing. Mitch evidently thought us getting back together meant we’d be together very physically.”
“You’re not?” She seemed shocked.
“Yeah, I know, it’s unusual these days. But we haven’t slept together… yet. He wants to, of course. In fact, so do I. But I’ve been down that road where sex too soon caused me to trip and fall on my face. Don’t want to do it again. I’m determined to wait ‘til I’m certain.”
“How will you know?”
“Not sure, which makes it extra tough on Mitch. I think he’d be easier with it if I could point to a calendar and say, ‘Okay, we’ll have sex on that night.’ But I really don’t know when.” Kelly sighed heavily. “Besides if we started having sex, next thing you know, he’d want to move in with me at the cabin. Can’t happen. I need some space and my solitude. Plus, when guys live with you, they always seem to be in the way.”
“Well not always.” Diane shook her head. “Sometimes they’re right where you need them…”
Kelly chuckled. “Uh-huh, sometimes. But anyway, Mitch has had a hard time getting used to this arrangement. He’s also got a thing with jealousy. Seems to think every man who talks to me is a potential problem.”
“I think the last time Joe was jealous was when I hugged a guy during a scene in a church Christmas musical.” Diane giggled softly. “Don’t you find it a bit flattering to have a jealous mate?”
“Yeah, to an extent. As long as it’s not suffocating.” Kelly smiled. “Mitch even got it in his head that Wade and I had something going on at one time.”
“Did you and Wade, uh…?” Diane’s finger made a lazy circle.
“Nah, never. It was completel
y circumstantial. Mitch discovered Wade kept a coffee mug at my cabin. Wade just forgot it to begin with, but then he consciously kept it there. And to Mitch it seemed like some claim to territory. Guys can be so primitive — they all want to mark territory and own things. Wade is my friend, kind of like a big brother, and we really enjoy hanging out. That’s it. Except he did help save our lives — Mitch and I.”
“That’s a story I’d like to hear. Joe told me pieces of it he got from Mitch.”
“Well, it’ll have to wait for another day. We need to scoot. I’m meeting Mitch for lunch.”
Chapter Thirteen
Thursday, May 3
Kelly had completed her early morning stretches, downed a cup of coffee, and was just taking her journal toward the porch, when she heard a vehicle on her gravel driveway. She peered through the front window before opening the door — few visitors came up her driveway from the cemetery road.
Don Norman exited his vehicle and hurried up the porch stairs.
Kelly greeted him and motioned to the rocking chairs.
“No thanks, not even time to sit. I called Uncle Len and he’s willing to let you see the Butler Bible, but it’s got to be right now. He’s got a doctor’s appointment in Lexington this afternoon, and tomorrow he might change his mind.”
“Why?”
“Not sure. I think he’d promised to show it to somebody once before, but something happened and he didn’t. Anyway, if you can leave right now, I’ll drive you over and hopefully you’ll get to see it. Might be your only chance.”
“Let me grab my phone and keys.” If Kelly had been the kind of woman who fretted a lot about her appearance, she probably would have changed from her T-shirt, jeans, and sandals. But she wasn’t.
Don took the right turn from her driveway too fast and the tires spat gravel as his vehicle’s rear slid to the left. “Sorry, I just don’t want you to miss this window. Couple of days after you and I met, I called Uncle Len to get the ball rolling. But he’d just had what my aunt called a ‘spell’ and she wouldn’t give him the phone. Next day, or maybe the day after, I called again. I got to speak with him, but he acted like he wasn’t going to let a stranger see the material, even though I explained it was related to your research on the cemetery. But later the same day, Uncle Len called me at my office and asked a few questions about what you were working on. He’s a big supporter of the cemetery and helps keep it up.”
“So what turned the tide?”
“Some of these old guys just like owning secrets. But he’s in a sharing mode right now, which is why I rushed over here to get you. You didn’t answer your phone.”
“Didn’t hear it, sorry.” She reached into her carryall and examined the phone. Low battery.
Don took roads Kelly had seldom been on and ended up on the southern fringe of old downtown. He parked across the street from what appeared like an old boarding house. “One thing I should mention — don’t know if it makes any difference, but I didn’t tell Uncle Len that Chet Walter was who hired you.”
“Well if he asks me, I’ll have to tell him.”
“I know, maybe he won’t ask. But in any case, don’t volunteer it. Not positive, but it might’ve been Pop who almost got to see the Bible once before… but didn’t.”
“Oh.” Kelly would have spent a moment wondering why but rushed to keep up with Don, who nearly sprinted up the wheelchair ramp to his Aunt Delores and Uncle Len’s house.
Don rang the doorbell, waited, and then peered through the adjacent window. Evidently he spotted someone, so Don repositioned at the door. After Kelly heard two locks being unlatched, the door slowly opened.
Len Norman invited them in, but he was blocking the doorway. Don waited patiently. Len turned, adjusted the wheels of the oxygen canister, shifted the grip to his far hand, and then moved on down the wide hallway. The canister’s wheels had a high, harsh squeak. “Lock that behind you, Don, if you don’t care.”
“Sure, Uncle Len.”
“C’mon in the sittin’ room. If Delores was here, she’d say parlor… but I sit in here, so it’s the sittin’ room to me. She went to the drug store to get my medicine.” Len struggled to maneuver the tank and then positioned himself over the chair he obviously favored. With both frail hands on the armrests, he slowly lowered his body… with an indecisive tremble just before he landed on the seat. He exhaled loudly. “So have a seat and tell me who this pretty lady is.”
“I’m Kelly Randall, Mister Norman. Pleased to meet you.” She sat to Len’s right on an overstuffed chair with carved wooden hands and feet. Don was to his uncle’s left on the large sofa. The room was slightly musty, but elegant in a late 1940s way. The house had been a well-built craftsman, with special touches no longer commonly featured: molding, built-ins, wainscoting, and other nice extras long forgotten by tract house builders.
Most of the furnishings matched the age and style of the house, and Kelly could see a woman’s touch in the decor. Mr. and Mrs. Norman had probably lived there since right after World War II, and they must have acquired many of their things when they moved in.
Beside Len’s chair was an old style leather briefcase with hinged jaws and a flap which fit into any of six narrow slots on the other side. At present, it appeared relatively empty, since the flap was latched on the bottommost slot.
As he spoke, Len’s right hand lingered over the old briefcase, and his fingers caressed the worn and stained leather as if it were his favorite wallet. The case obviously had lots of history, outside and in. “Now tell me again what kind of story you’re writing about?”
“As you know, Mr. Norman, we just passed the 144th year since the founding of the Butler Cemetery. I do some part time writing for the local paper, and this story was suggested to me. In addition to gathering information about the cemetery, how it was started, and how it’s grown, I’m also trying to learn more about the dead soldier who occupied its first grave.”
“Writing a story for the paper.” Len briefly closed his rheumy eyes and seemed to be calculating something. “Lots of people would see a story in the paper.”
“Yes sir. I don’t know their circulation exactly, but I know it goes all over the county. Now I should tell you I don’t know for sure if they’ll run it. I mean, until I write it and take it in, there’s a certain amount of hopefulness on my part. But since it’s local history, I think we’ve got a nice chance.” Kelly glanced over at Don, who seemed relieved Pop’s name hadn’t come up.
“I know an old fella who works at the paper — Kohlick. I could call him if you like.”
Kohlick was her editor. “I appreciate the offer. But let me see how it goes just with normal channels. If it seems like it’s stuck on somebody’s desk, I’ll give you a call, and maybe you can talk to your friend.”
Len appeared pleased with their settlement. His fingers tapped the top of the briefcase audibly — to Don and Kelly, at least — though Len could not likely hear it himself. “Did my nephew tell you what I’ve got?”
Don interrupted. “Just that you came into possession of the old Butler Bible, and later you found something inside.”
Kelly wished she’d heard Len’s version instead of Don’s, but maybe it would come out about the same anyway. She just nodded.
Len seemed satisfied on whatever counts were factoring in his head. “Bring over the little table, Don, if you don’t care.” He pointed to what Kelly thought of as a TV tray table.
Don placed it in front of Len, straddling the old man’s thin knees, and taking care to keep the oxygen tube from being pressed or tangled by the legs.
“Help me raise this up, Don.”
Don reached down between the chairs and grabbed the briefcase by its sides. Soon, Kelly understood why. One end of the leather handle was worn nearly all the way through. Don has seen this case before.
While Don steadied the case, Len pulled it over on its side, with the top facing him. He rested both hands on the part with the clasp, as Don got seated again.
“My great-great-aunt Ethel — before she married a Heath — was raised a Turner, like my great-grandma Mary. She and her husband went to Missouri sometime during the Civil War. Now you probably already know William Butler had two families, and numerous children by his first wife. Most remained in Kentucky but not in this area. At least one of those girls — who married into I-don’t-remember-what-name — also ended up in Missouri, not too far from where Aunt Ethel was living. Anyway, I don’t know how this Bible got from Kentucky to Missouri, or how long it was with the Missouri folks. I’m not sure which people in Missouri even had it. And I don’t think I’ve ever heard how it came back to Kentucky and ended up in Momma’s hands. But anyhow, when Momma died, one of my sisters took this Bible and kept it for several years. One day, out of the blue, Sister just up and gives it to me. If she ever said why, I don’t recollect it now. I don’t believe she’s ever said anything about it to anybody else.”
Will Len ever finish his story? All Kelly wanted was to see the Bible and whatever was inside it. She struggled against her impulse to interrupt.
“There’s not a lot in it besides verse notations. I’ve leafed through the whole thing. In the back, there’s some pages with births and deaths… different people’s handwriting. It stops about the time of the Great Depression.” Len gingerly pulled the Bible from the old leather case and placed it on the table in front of him. It was tied with a single strand of black ribbon about half an inch wide.
Don got up again and carefully placed the empty case back on the floor.
“For a long time, I didn’t even notice what’d been hidden inside.” Len untied the black ribbon. “It was only when the binding broke in the back — the reason I tied it up — that I saw something had been slipped between the back leather cover and this heavy paper sheet which used to be glued to the leather.” Len paused and eyed both of his guests. “Now, this little item from the Butler Bible is something some of the family lines don’t even know about apparently, so you ought not to mention it in your article.”