Looking Through Darkness

by Aimée Thurlo

  “You’re right, Leigh Ann. We’ve got each other’s back, and nothing can change that.”

  As she looked at Melvin, she knew her future lay with him, and that she was making the right choice. When you got right down to it, you could only live life in the present, and that made moments too precious to waste. Once they were clear of the roadblocks in their way right now, she’d be free to go with her heart.

  * * *

  Less than a half hour later they arrived at the Waterflow home of Mr. and Mrs. Carl Jonas, the parents of Ronald Jonas, the forty-year-old who’d caused Melvin’s accident.

  As Leigh Ann parked beside the mailbox identified with the Jonas name, she took a deep breath, noting the carefully tended lawn and bed of roses beneath what looked like the living room window. A small green garden wheelbarrow containing pulled weeds and a leaf rake was sitting beside the narrow sidewalk. Centered along the wall was the covered porch, where two empty wicker chairs stood side by side.

  The house was smaller and probably older than others along the street in this development, but was clearly well maintained. “This is it,” she told Melvin. “There’s a curb here, so the step down, then up might be tricky. I’ll come around.”

  Several seconds later, as they walked up the sidewalk, Leigh Ann noticed a tall, thin man, who appeared to be in his seventies, standing inside at the window beside the curtains. No matter what they learned, she couldn’t help but feel sorry for a mother and father who’d lost their child in such a sudden and violent manner. Like Melvin, they also had to live with what Ronald had done.

  As they stepped up onto the porch, the man opened the front door. “Can I help you?” he called out, then stiffened the instant he saw them up close. Leigh Ann got the distinct impression that he recognized Melvin.

  She could see through the small entryway into the living room, where an elderly woman in a flowered housedress was sitting on a large sofa, staring blankly at the television.

  Melvin quickly introduced himself and got right to the point. “Mr. Jonas, I need to ask you some questions about the night of the accident, five years ago.”

  He shook his head. “There’s nothing more I want to say. It’s over. My son made a mistake, and he paid for his sins.” Mr. Jonas turned to glance at a large photograph on the wall trimmed with black ribbon.

  Leigh Ann looked at the photo of Ronald Jonas, did a double take and gasped, her stomach sinking as she realized for the first time just who he had been.

  “You okay?” Melvin whispered, squeezing her hand.

  She nodded, struggling to calm her racing heart. “I’m fine. Go ahead.”

  Melvin spoke. “I’m so sorry for your loss, sir, but that night I also lost something. My sight,” he added gently.

  “I’m sorry for what you’ve gone through, Mr. Littlewater, but my son lost a lot more—his life. That’s all the revenge you’ll get.”

  “Sir, I’m not interested in revenge or apologies,” Melvin said, his voice calm and low. “We didn’t come to upset you or your wife, either. I’m just trying to put some things together, details I can’t seem to remember clearly.”

  “Like what?” he asked hesitantly.

  “Before my sight faded away, I know I saw a young girl, maybe nine or ten years old, at the site of the accident.”

  The man’s face paled, and he took a step back. “No more! Go away. My wife and I have been through enough since that night. After our son’s death my Hazel had a stroke. She’s never been the same. There’s nothing more I can tell you, so please leave.”

  “Sir, if you could just tell me one thing,” Melvin pressed. “Did your son have anyone with him in his car that night?”

  Mr. Jonas visually sagged, then he sucked in a shaky breath. “Get off my property right now or I’ll call the police,” he snapped, then slammed the door shut.

  Trying to focus on what was most important right now, Leigh Ann held on to Melvin’s hand as they walked back down the sidewalk. “Something’s not right here,” Leigh Ann said. “His reaction was way over the top. He’s hiding something.”

  “You mean how he paused after I asked if his son had someone with him that night?”

  “Yes, and he reacted visibly, too.”

  “What did you see?” Melvin asked.

  “Anger at first, then fear,” she said.

  “Anger, for stirring up memories. I get that, but what is he worried about? Nothing more can hurt his son.”

  “I think we need to find out,” she replied, helping him into the Jeep.

  “How?”

  “Let me think about it a moment,” she said, switching on the ignition. She drove to the end of the block, then abruptly decided to go back and circle the neighborhood. Her head was still swimming in the knowledge that there was a connection between her and Ronald Jonas. Until now he’d only been the faceless drunk who’d almost killed the man she loved.

  It was something she now had to make up for, and the only way she knew to do that was to help Melvin in his own quest for the truth.

  “We’re going back to that house?”

  “No, but I think we should try to talk to a few of the Jonases’ neighbors. The houses here are close together and it reminds me of one of the neighborhoods Rache and I lived in as kids. Everyone knew everyone else’s business. I have a feeling it’s the same here.”

  She looked around and saw that a home two doors down from the Jonas residence had a sign in its front yard, announcing a neighborhood association meeting to be held there later that night.

  “This is a good bet,” she said, explaining her discovery to Melvin as she pulled up to the curb. “People involved in neighborhood watches usually know what’s going on with their neighbors.”

  They climbed out of the Jeep and walked up the sidewalk together, as before. Leigh Ann knocked on the door and placed her hand over Melvin’s where it rested on her arm. Never before had the urge to hang on to him been so strong.

  An attractive redheaded woman in her early thirties answered the door. Leigh Ann introduced herself and Melvin, then added, “Can we talk to you a minute about Ronald Jonas?”

  The woman nodded and gave her name as Mrs. Naomi Ortega. “Come in,” she said, ushering them into her living room. Leigh Ann and Melvin took seats on the couch and Mrs. Ortega made herself comfortable in a nearby chair.

  “Ronald’s accident happened five years ago; why is it important now?” she asked in a gentle voice, looking at Leigh Ann, then Melvin.

  Melvin said, “What happened to me can’t be undone, but I need closure. I believe someone else was there at the accident site that night, a young girl.”

  “I remember hearing about that possibility back then. If I recall, the police searched the entire area, especially downstream along the canal. They never found evidence that suggested anyone else was present or had witnessed the accident. There were tracks everywhere, of course. Dozens of people stopped after the accident,” Mrs. Ortega said. “Maybe you were confused because of your injuries?”

  Leigh Ann could tell that she meant no disrespect, and from Melvin’s calm response, she suspected that he felt the same. “It’s true that no one reported a missing child, but the girl might have been a runaway from out of the area,” he said.

  Mrs. Ortega took a deep breath. “This is still a touchy subject around here. The fact is, Ronald Jonas was a registered pedophile. When the courts allowed him to move in with his parents, a few of the men from our neighborhood association got together and paid the Jonas family a visit. Carl and Hazel insisted that their son was innocent and had been wrongly convicted, but no one was buying that. Ronnie was told plainly that if any neighborhood kids turned up missing or were harmed in any way, people would go looking for him first.”

  “Did Ronnie stay out of trouble after that?” Leigh Ann asked. Her sympathy for the man’s death had never been great, but now it was even less so.

  The woman shook her head. “About six months afterwards, some of the kids reported a
guy hanging around the elementary school a few blocks down. Ronnie had pulled up beside two girls walking home and asked them if they needed a ride. My stepdaughter was one of those girls, and once her dad realized who Leta was talking about, he and some other men paid Ronald a visit.”

  “What happened?” Leigh Ann asked.

  “Ronald claimed that he’d only offered to give Leta a ride home because he knew she lived almost next door, but I was told that not even his parents bought that excuse. The men told Ronald that someone would be watching him, and if anything like that happened again, he’d face neighborhood justice.”

  “What about your stepdaughter?” Melvin asked.

  “Leta’s in high school now, living with her mother, and doing just fine. I heard of a second incident involving Ronald sometime later, but it wasn’t in our neighborhood.”

  “What happened?” Leigh Ann asked.

  “Ronald got drunk on Halloween and tried to get a ten-year-old into his car. Her mother was following the trick-or-treaters and managed to stop her daughter in time. The girl’s father and two of his friends beat the hell out of Ronald a few days later. Ronald never reported it to the police and hid out in his parents’ house for weeks. Next I heard he was planning to move out. Then he got into that accident with you,” she said, looking at Melvin.

  “Did any other kids go missing around that time?” Melvin asked.

  “No. That’s the first thing our neighborhood watch team looked into. I’m sure the police, who knew Ronald’s background, double checked everything, too.”

  “Maybe so,” Melvin answered, sounding unconvinced.

  “We really appreciate your help,” Leigh Ann said, standing. Melvin also got to his feet.

  “No problem. I just didn’t want you to go up and down the street trying to push for answers. There’s still a lot of ill will about Ronald around here. People resent the fact that the Jonas couple didn’t keep Ronald on a shorter leash from day one.”

  “Odd that the parents didn’t move out afterwards,” Leigh Ann said. “You’d think they’d want to get away from the memories, the accusations, and all.”

  “After Mrs. Jonas’s stroke, they just kept to themselves,” Mrs. Ortega said, showing them out.

  As they walked back to Leigh Ann’s Jeep, she reluctantly brought up the question now on her mind. “Is it at all possible that you hallucinated? Maybe you saw an angel?”

  “That’s your Christian upbringing. I’m not of your faith so I very much doubt I’d see an angel. I also have no reason to believe I was hallucinating, but I just don’t know,” he said. “What I remember of that night are mostly flashes of images.”

  “There’s one more thing we can do. Sam knows all kinds of ways to search on the Internet. I mean well, but half the time I just get lost or don’t use the right key words. Let’s ask her to look into it and let us know if she finds any mention of a missing girl in the Four Corners area on or around that date.”

  “Good idea. I’ll be happy to pay her for her time,” Melvin said with a nod as he climbed into the Jeep. “For now, what do you say we go home and I get some more work done on that sculpture? Or do you want to talk about your strange reaction when we met Mr. Jonas? I heard you gasp, like you were startled by something. I felt you shaking.”

  “It was such an emotional situation, being there. I’m fine now,” she lied, climbing behind the wheel. She’d eventually have to talk to Melvin about what she’d discovered from that photo, but that could change everything. Right now, she’d rather have his company, no matter what the price might be later on.

  “Are you sure about that?” he asked as she started the engine. “Your voice sounds … strained.”

  “No, I’m okay. I’m just anxious for you to finish your project,” she said, pulling out into the street. A distraction like this was certainly the best way right now to clear her head until she could reevaluate her situation. “So tell me, is the figure coming out the way you want?”

  “Yeah, it’s almost done. The work has been intense, though, and that kind of focus comes at a price. By giving it everything, I’ve lost my objectivity—it’s now personal. Although my goal was for each person to see a part of themselves in the sculpture, there’s no guarantee that’ll happen,” he said. “I took a risk. Eventually I’ll find out if I’ve succeeded or failed.”

  “Do you regret having done it?”

  “Not at all. I’ve stayed in my comfort zone for too long. It was time for Darkness Girl to be born.”

  “Darkness Girl…,” she said slowly, savoring it. “I like the name you gave her. What made you choose something like that?”

  “She’s one of the intermediaries hataaliis include in our sacred sand paintings from time to time, and she fits in with the duality of this sculpture. The clay is two-toned, light and dark. In many ways she symbolizes the sighted world and mine, though the sighted will be the ones to judge it.

  “I have to wait and see if my vision has the power to touch them, or if they’ll just see this piece as an okay attempt at human form by an animal sculptor.” His voice turned bitter for a moment. “Human beings like pigeonholing everything and that’s how people see me as an artist. I want to prove that I’m capable of much more, but a closed mind is one of the hardest obstacles to overcome.”

  “If you think it’s good, that’s all that should really matter. You shouldn’t measure its worth based on another person’s opinion,” she said.

  “As true as that may be, it doesn’t work that way in the arts. We need the world’s reaction to be favorable if we hope to survive. God protect us from the critics.”

  “The more you care—about anything—the more vulnerable you become. Rejection, no matter what form it takes, cuts deeply.”

  “Is that part of the reason you work so hard and put in such long hours at the trading post? Are you afraid it’ll somehow be taken from you?”

  “Partly, yes, but it’s more than that,” she answered. “I want to do a fabulous job and show Jo that her faith in me is justified. She gave me my chance, and all things considered, I get far more out of my job there than anyone realizes. The way everyone cares about each other fills an empty spot inside me. I don’t make a fortune, but I’m valued.”

  “So it’s perfect for you?”

  “I’d like more responsibility, and maybe the chance to become a full-time buyer, but I’m exactly where I need to be, particularly right now.”

  “Because you’ll have friends around you while you settle your past?”

  She nodded. “Detective McGraw is finally looking in the right direction, but I plan to go to Total Supply tomorrow during my lunch hour and talk to Wayne. Maybe I can prod him into saying or doing something that’ll give me some more answers. He’s the weakest link.”

  “You shouldn’t go alone,” Melvin said.

  “I’ll be okay. It’ll be broad daylight and during business hours.” And I’ll have the .38 in my purse, she thought.

  “Will you call me after you leave there?”

  “Sure.” A special warmth spread through her. It was nice to know that Melvin really cared, that the attraction between them wasn’t just hormones and wishes. She could count on one hand the number of people who’d ever worried about her. The thought of losing him over something she’d done five years ago suddenly chilled her heart, and she had to calm herself a moment before she could speak again. “As soon as I’m done, I’ll get in touch and let you know what happened.”

  — EIGHTEEN —

  The next morning Leigh Ann arrived at the trading post early, passing new signs that announced the café. As she was climbing out of her Jeep, she saw Jo walking over from the house in the adjoining lot. The somber expression on Jo’s face told her there’d been no news about Ben. Leigh Ann’s heart fell but she managed a smile. “Good morning. How are the plans for the coffee bar going?”

  “The hookup and coffee bar installation took barely two hours, and while that was going on the staff and I were able to
get everything else relocated and set up. Larry, the plumber, said we didn’t need a county inspection and that our electrical hookups were already up to code.”

  “So the signs I saw outside are for real?”

  “Yeah, we’re good to go. Sam was also able to straighten out the Internet issues and test it out. We should be fully operational today. We actually reopened from five to six last night to serve some of our regular customers who’d stopped by. We even learned how to use the espresso machine. I’ve got to say, I liked the reactions we got from those we served.”

  “What did you have to brew?” Leigh Ann asked, surprised. “Last I heard Esther was still researching various blends.”

  “We had some espresso, which was okay, but it was Sam who made our day. She mixed a little bit of milk, coffee, and caramel flavoring and topped it with a huge serving of whipped cream. She called it The Outpost Blast. One customer liked it so much she brought extras to take to her evening shift coworkers.”

  “What kind of coffee did Sam use? Our break-room brew?”

  “No, it was one that Esther had on her short list—that Santa Fe blend with piñon. It was too strong just for black coffee, but once you blended in the milk and cream, it was perfect.”

  “That’s great! And you said the Wi-Fi works?” Leigh Ann asked as they climbed the steps leading up to the back door.

  Jo smiled. “Perfectly. You can access the Internet from every spot inside the trading post—even the front porch and loading dock. Sam stayed late, playing with it, and even did some research for you and Melvin off the books. How’s that going for you, anyway?”

  Leigh Ann followed Jo inside to the office area and updated her on their search for the mysterious young girl from Melvin’s accident.

  “How sure are you that the girl was real if nobody else saw her?”

  “Melvin’s convinced of it,” Leigh Ann replied.

  Once inside the main room, Leigh Ann looked around and whistled low. “Wow, adding the bar and tables and repositioning some of the merchandise changes the entire feel of the place,” she said. “I love that touch, too,” she said, pointing to the chalkboard listing the coffees available.