by Remember Me
dad’s name. I figured I would look it up in the phone book.”
“That’s a good idea,” agreed her aunt. “Now get busy on that chicken, dear. There’s
plenty more out on the grill when you finish that one.”
Margaret ate the well-made meal with enthusiasm, engaging in conversation with her
favorite relatives the entire time. Dinner lasted only a short while so that the group could finish
some small chores around the house and prepare the saddles for morning. Margaret brushed
Blaze off and gently combed through her hair.
Margaret could sense the animal’s excitement by its reaction. It seemed as if the animal
knew that she was one of the main reasons for Margaret’s visit. The last few weeks had almost
made Margaret forget about the wonderful creature she spent time with on these trips.
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As darkness began setting in, Margaret entered the house to get a phone book. She
returned to the porch with the small book in her arms. Her aunt and uncle sat out on a porch
swing watching the beautiful golden sunset.
The evenings spent watching the sunsets were a ritual for her aunt and uncle. She had
spent many nights at their home, and could not recall an evening that they didn’t share the sunset
together. The predictability of their evenings comforted Margaret. In a world where everything
changed from day to day, it was nice to know that some things remained the same.
Margaret sat down in another chair on the small wooden deck and thumbed through the
names in the book. She looked through the small group of names under Whitmore, but found no
listing under the name of Todd. A feeling of helplessness crept over her as she wondered if the
family had moved.
“Did you find it?” asked her aunt Kate.
“No,” answered Margaret, dismally. “Perhaps they moved.”
“What’s her father’s name?” asked her uncle, hoping to help.
“Todd Whitmore,” Margaret answered, looking up at her uncle who had his arm around
his wife.
“Well, that explains everything,” answered her aunt. “His number’s unlisted on purpose.”
“Why is that?” Margaret questioned.
“He’s our mayor,” answered her uncle, chuckling. “Has been for almost three years now.
They never list the home phone numbers of public officials in the phone book.”
“He’s the mayor?” Margaret asked in disbelief.
“Sure,” answered her aunt. “Is there something wrong with that? You seem really upset.”
“Oh, I don’t mean anything by it. I’m just a little bit surprised by her father being the
mayor. She never mentioned anything about it when I talked to her.”
“Maybe your friend is modest and doesn’t want to act like a snob,” suggested her uncle.
“Maybe,” agreed Margaret. “I think I will take you up on that offer to drive me into town
tomorrow, though.”
“First thing in the morning?”
“No,” she answered. “After our morning ride.”
“Sounds great,” her uncle answered.
Margaret stared out as the sun fell gently below the seclusion of the distant horizon. Time
had no meaning during such an event, and there were no words to describe it. The three sat in
silence, with only the gentle creaking of the porch swing to disturb the peace. Even the breeze
ceased to blow, so as not to intimidate the majesty of the sunset.
Margaret relaxed with the quiet couple. Their simple way of life and rewarding existence
owed only to the constant work with the land they harvested. They were simple people, and that
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comforted her immensely. It seemed almost intrusive for her to hinder their basic living with her
complicated existence.
As the darkness set in on the large ranch, Margaret realized that her eyes had grown
incredibly heavy. She knew that there were still several hours before her usual bedtime, but
decided to get some rest so she could start the day early. She bid her aunt and uncle a good night
and entered the house.
The morning began early. Margaret had left the blinds in her room open so that the
morning sun would wake her. By eight in the morning she had already ridden her horse for
almost an hour, showered and eaten breakfast.
Now dressed in more casual clothing than her riding gear, she walked out to the old
pickup truck with her uncle and sat down in the passenger seat. The truck started up with a
rumble, and the two took off towards town. The drive took about fifteen minutes, and as they
drew closer, the houses became more and more crowded together. Her uncle reached the local
farmer’s market and pulled in with Margaret before dropping her off.
Margaret loved to walk through the market, dreaming about what she would purchase if
she had the money and land to raise her own horses. She often fantasized about having the
wealth to own a ranch like her uncle’s, but doubted that it would ever amount to anything.
As she walked towards the front door of the market, she noticed something that she
hadn’t thought of before. The city library was only about two blocks away from the market.
Margaret stopped before she reached the entrance to the market and called out to her uncle.
“How far away would the mayor’s address be from here?”
“Only about eight blocks,” answered her uncle. “I’ll only be a few minutes, Margaret. I’ll
take you right there.”
“Oh no,” Margaret apologized. “I’m not trying to rush you, I just saw the library down
the street. I thought I might look up a few of the local attractions before I headed up to try to find
my friend. She’s probably not up yet anyway, and it would let me spend some quality time in the
library planning out my visit.”
“All right. Do you want me to run you over to the library now?”
“Actually, uncle Jeff, I wouldn’t mind taking a walk. I have all sorts of energy this
morning, must be the fresh air out here.”
“What will you do if your friend isn’t home?” he asked in a concerned voice.
“I can find other things to do to keep me occupied for most of the day. I’d like to surprise
her anyhow.”
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“Sounds just fine,” answered her uncle. “You just give us a call when you get tired of
town and we’ll come back into town to pick you up. You’re sure you can find your way around
all right?”
“Sure, uncle Jeff. I’ll be just fine, but don’t worry if you don’t hear from me until later
this evening. I have some exploring I would like to get started on.”
“You have a good time, dear.”
“I will,” Margaret answered as she started off towards the library with a new spirit of
excitement.
The morning air in the town felt brisk against her skin. She had worn a pair of shorts for
the long day she planned to spend looking around. She knew that by afternoon the heat in the
town would seem unbearable if she wore anything else besides shorts and a T-shirt.
The old city block looked drab in the early morning light. The buildings along the street
had lined the corridor for many years and their brick’s appea
red weathered. Margaret walked
alone down the deserted road. She could easily understand why this section of town had suffered
from the addition of more modern shopping malls.
Only the sounds of early morning birds chirping, disturbed the silence of the desolate
area. The air smelled as pure as on her uncle’s farm, minus the odor of the horses. The pollution
from the surplus of cars in large parking lots rarely made its presence in this part of the city.
Margaret walked into the Harrison City Library and looked around the small building.
She could tell that the building was old, and undersized for its purposes. The books inside were
stacked on high shelves and the shelves had little space between them for browsing in the aisles.
Even the tables for reading seemed packed together.
The building looked abandoned, except for the librarian and an elderly couple who shared
a table together in a corner of the building. Margaret walked over to where the librarian sat
behind the counter. The woman looked up and smiled at her as she realized that Margaret needed
some information.
“Can I help you?” asked the woman behind the counter.
“I’m wondering if you have any old copies of the local newspaper on file?” Margaret
asked.
“How far back do you want to go?” asked the woman.
“About eighteen years.”
“You’re in luck,” answered the librarian. “We just had our files updated a year ago and
all past newspapers were placed on microfiche to allow us to store them for longer periods of
time. Have you ever worked with the microfiche before?”
“Yes,” answered Margaret
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“Then you’ll want to head back to our audiovisual room at the back of the library. There
are cabinets full of film you can look through. There are three visual machines back there, and
this early in the morning, I don’t think anyone is back there to bother you. The other librarian
isn’t due in for another hour, so if you need any help, come see me.”
“Thank you,” answered Margaret.
She walked back to the room that the librarian had indicated and found everything as she
described it. Margaret set her bag down next to one of the viewing devices and pulled out a small
notepad. She could feel her heart pounding from the excitement.
The pad had several bits of information inscribed on in. The first was the number 87 and
the rest were dates and calculations. Margaret had used the information she found in her father’s
files to try to pinpoint the exact day she was conceived. She had narrowed the time down to a
three week stretch. She hoped the paper would contain the information she needed.
After some searching, she located the local paper during the dates that she needed. Two
separate reels contained the stretch of film she needed, and she sat down in front of one of the
devices to look through them.
To her surprise, the paper only came out three times a week during the times she
searched. The sports section was the last part of each newspaper, and she carefully surveyed each
page for information about the teams that Harrison played each week in football.
To Margaret’s relief, the newspaper had a policy during the times she searched, where it
printed the names and numbers of the players from each team, in the paper before each game.
Margaret found no number 87 listed in any of Harrison’s line-ups. She did find two different
87’s that played for other teams during the three week stretch.
She wrote down the names of the teams as she read through the different papers, but
didn’t find anything really substantial during the first two weekends of her calculations. Only
one paper remained for the last possible weekend that she would have been conceived.
It wasn’t until she opened the paper following the homecoming game that she found
anything to help her search. The front page of the town’s Sunday paper following the
homecoming game had a large picture of a football player scoring a touchdown. The number on
the player’s uniform caught her eye immediately.
Margaret read the writing beneath the picture carefully;
“...West Jefferson’s Greg Thompson crosses the goal line as the final seconds pass away at
Friday night’s homecoming game, supplying fans of Harrison with a tremendous upset. More on
page 2...”
Margaret quickly shifted the film to the next page of the paper. She read on carefully, but
found no other information about the player. She felt a strange sensation as she turned back to
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the front page and looked the picture over. Something inside Margaret assured her, he was her
father. She even scratched out the other number 87 player from her notes.
Margaret wrote the name down in her book, as well as the name of the school. She felt
rather proud of herself for her skills as a detective. Perhaps photography wasn’t her real calling
in life. She cleaned up her mess and left the room, satisfied with her eventful visit. She thanked
the librarian, who now sat all by herself, as she walked out of the lonesome building.
She walked down the street from the library, trying to decide where she would go next.
She decided to go to the mall and walk around, trying to clear her thoughts and decide her next
course of action. She still wanted to see the woman who had aborted her, but needed to figure out
a way to do it without seeming strange.
Margaret walked quickly down the main street of town, realizing that it was two miles to
the shopping complex. This section of town was the original commercial center of town. Like
most small cities, it had all but blown away, with most of the stores moving to the convenience
of mass market. Only a few faithful businesses and offices remained behind to keep the street
occupied.
Margaret walked past an old building, not paying any particular attention to it as she
continued her journey. She knew Heather’s husband had an office with the city, but hadn’t
realized that this was the city office building she passed. She was deep in thought, and not
paying much attention to those few unfamiliar faces who shared the sidewalks with her.
The sound of somebody near her greeting another person caught her by surprise, and she
quickly looked over to see if her ears had played tricks on her.
“Good morning, Mayor,” uttered the voice of an older man as he walked away from the
building. Margaret glanced over just in time to see the back of a man disappearing into the doors
of the old building. She stopped suddenly to survey the scene at the building. Margaret stood still
in shock, studying the entire area.
There were only several cars parked in the lot. A young girl who had accompanied the
man continued down the walkway past the building, towards the park located behind it. She
looked over to the parking lot and felt amazed to find one of the cars parked in a stall reserved
for the mayor of the city.
The park where the young girl headed, looked only sparsely inhabited by other members
of the community. Margaret decided immediately that the mall could wait. She took a slightly
different route towards the park, so as not to seem as if s
he had followed the girl.
Margaret picked a vantage point close enough to keep a close eye on the girl, but far
enough away to remain anonymous. She found a park bench and sat down with the journal she
carried in her bag. She needed to look busy and inconspicuous.
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The girl looked thin, but wore baggy clothes. Her hair hung just below her shoulders, and
looked soft and well cared for. It was slightly darker than Margaret’s own, and had a natural curl.
She had a medium build, but a delicate and trim figure.
As Margaret watched the girl, she realized how pretty the girl could be, if she didn’t hide
her features. The girl wore shorts and an oversized T-shirt, which did little to accent her
appearance. It was a lazy look, and fitting for a relaxed summer day, but the girl could look
much better if she wanted.
Margaret took advantage of the time to write down some information in the newly
purchased journal. She had decided to keep a new journal after her graduation night. She decided
to start with a whole new book, as a symbol of the new realization of her past. She bought it right
before she left her hometown for the journey to her Aunt Kate’s home.
Margaret opened up the book and read over the first entry before writing anything
further. She had dated it the night before.
“...Today I purchased this journal to keep notes of the events taking place during my
journey in the search of the woman who conceived me. I have decided to keep this journal to
document what occurs during my trip.
I learned about the project began by Dr. Penn approximately one week ago and have been
searching for the woman who aborted me ever since. I have now learned her name and the
community where she resides.
I also realize that the project that was taken over by my father, Dr. Raymond Drake,
means a lot scientifically. My life is a product of this experiment and I am a living study, whose
everyday existence is researched.
For these reasons, I have decided to keep this journal not only to document my actions,
but also my feelings. I have three weeks to find the woman named Heather Whitmore. I still
haven’t decided what I will do if and when I do find her, but I do need to find her, if for nothing