by Vicki Grant
“Not another one of his bad spells?”
“Yeah. Last couple of weeks. He’s back to his wandering again. Usually shows up by morning, but Clara’s all in a knot about it.”
“Can I help?”
Mr. Adair shook his head. “You take your girl back before you get her in more trouble than you already have. I’ll find him. I know his ways better than anyone. Two old bachelors. We’re worse than a married couple.”
He raised two fingers in a wave, then headed off toward the highway.
Eddie and I snuck back into the colony. He kissed me goodbye on the stairs to my cabin. It was dark, so I didn’t notice the bones on the step until the next day.
Nineteen
IT WAS ANOTHER bird’s wing. White and fragile. A piece of art.
If I hadn’t been so tired—and so happy—when I found it the next morning, I might have been concerned. My imagination might have come up with some gruesome explanation for why, yet again, there were bones on my front step. Luckily, my imagination was otherwise occupied. I hid the wing under the stairs and raced off to work. I’d tell Eddie about it later.
I was going to be working all weekend. The annual Dunbrae Garden Party was on Sunday, so everyone had been called in, but I was meeting him that night at the newspaper office to go through old issues of the Gleaner. He wanted to double-ride me in after work, but I told him I’d meet him there because I had something to do for Mrs. Smees.
That was a lie. It was Friday. The night the ladies’ auxiliary of St. Ninian’s Anglican Church got together. I took the bus into Buckminster after dinner.
I pushed open the front door to the church and walked in. No one was there. I was starting to wonder if the nurse had given me the wrong night when I heard someone say, “May I help you?”
A lady came out from behind the big bouquet of flowers on the altar.
“Mrs. Naylor?” We were both surprised to see each other.
“Dot. Just getting ready for the baptism tomorrow. What are you doing here?”
“Looking for the ladies’ auxiliary.”
“You’re a little young for that, but you’re more than welcome to join us. We’re meeting in the church hall in ten minutes.”
“No. I’m not joining. I just need some help.”
“Oh dear.” She bustled toward me, worried.
“It’s nothing. I’d just like to know who this belongs to. Someone said you ladies might recognize the crest.”
I handed her the spoon.
“What’s this?” She looked at me with the weirdest expression on her face.
“I think it’s a mustard spoon.”
“Oh. Yes. Of course.” She shook her head like, Silly me. “Tiny, isn’t it?”
“Don’t suppose you’d know whose family motto that is.”
She put on her glasses and studied it for quite a while. “Hmm. That’s a new one to me. ‘Loyal unto death.’”
“That’s what it says? I thought it said loyal on the earth.”
She took another look. “Oh, yes. You’re right! Loyal on the earth. That still doesn’t help me, but I’m sure one of my friends will recognize it. We’ve got some avid genealogists. Mind if I keep it?”
“No. Please.”
She put it into her apron pocket, then turned to go. “Sorry, dear. Have to run. The ladies are very particular about getting our meetings started on time.”
They really must have been, given how fast she beetled out of there.
The sign outside the newspaper office said The Buckminster Gleaner. News, Views and all the Who’s Who of Cottage Country. Eddie pulled me behind it for a kiss. We were just stepping back out when the editor walked out the door, swabbing his neck with a hankie the size of a small tablecloth.
“How’s your piece on the new highway coming, Ed?”
“Almost done. Have it on your desk by tomorrow night, if that’s okay.”
“Should be.” Mr. Quigley patted Eddie’s shoulder, put on his hat and tipped his head to me. “Gotta fly. I’m meeting Ward and Len at the golf course in ten minutes.”
“So he found him then?” Eddie said. “We saw Ward out looking last night.”
“Yeah. Len was wandering around out behind the resort, scaring the guests again.” Mr. Quigley shook his head. “Could you give Ward a break and get Len out fishing? He’ll go with you.”
“Already picked us up some nice trout flies. Thought I’d take Dad out too.”
“Good man. Gunky must be the only one who can get a smile out of Len these days.”
“You know Dad. Won’t give up until he does.”
The newspaper office was empty, but you could still smell the sticky residue of cigarettes and the men who smoked them. Eddie’s desk was squeezed into a corner at the back, a two-foot pile of newspapers stacked on top of it.
He picked up the first one. “Tuesday, July 8, 1947. Day of the party. I figured there wouldn’t be any reason to start before then. All things considered, I doubt anybody had a baby shower for the mother.”
We looked through two weeks of the Gleaner without much luck. The prime minister was arriving in town on the ninth for his niece’s engagement party and the whole town was in a flurry over that. Lots of birth announcements too, but they were all of the usual “Mr. and Mrs. Donald B. Jackson are delighted…” variety. None of the “A premature baby was discovered…” type. There were no reports of a woman being admitted to the hospital or found bleeding and disoriented in the woods. Nothing about a wild party or a corpse either.
We did, however, see lots of ribbon cuttings, grumpy church ladies and little kids beaming their faces off over first-place prizes in three-legged races and tap-dancing competitions. In the regular “Dunbrae Doings” section, there was a photo of women in long gowns and bare shoulders, laughing over cocktails at a party celebrating the Adair Scholarship Fund.
“Adair?” I said. “Like Ward Adair?”
“Yup. Every year his family sends ‘a deserving young Buckminsterite’ to university.”
“Such as yourself?”
“Nah. I’d kind of like to make my own way. Ward’s done enough for the Nicholsons as it is.” He shrugged, then changed the subject by pointing out everyone in the picture. Only two names rang a bell. Miss Augusta Cameron, looking even more like Cleopatra because her hair was dark back then. And Helena Rathburn. It was obvious from whom Glennie had inherited her smile—and her bosom.
Not much going on at the resort the following week, at least according to the Gleaner. We were squinting at a photo of the then-new staff cafeteria, trying to figure out if the pretty woman at the side could possibly have been Ida forty pounds ago, when a door opened behind us and a big guy with a fresh crewcut lumbered in.
Eddie introduced us. Jimmy Sweeny had little eyes and a nose like an old boot but a nice smile. (He flashed it at me when Eddie tried to pass me off as his assistant.) He swung a chair around and sat on it backward, beefy arms crossed on the top rail.
“Those the issues you looking for?”
“Yeah, thanks, Jim. Hope it wasn’t too much trouble tracking them down for me.”
“No trouble at all. It’s my job. What’d you want them for anyway?”
“Doing a story on Bye-Bye Baby.”
“The party up Dunbrae?”
“No. The real thing. I heard someone saw an actual baby that night.”
“Huh.” Jimmy turned down his lips and nodded. The classic well-whaddya-know face, but he didn’t manage to pull it off very well.
Eddie noticed that too. “What do you mean, huh?”
“Just huh.” He hooked a finger behind the knot in his tie and wiggled it down an inch or two. “Awful hot in here, eh?”
“Were you there?” Eddie was suddenly alert, a wolf on a scent.
“No.”
“Jimmy.”
“What?”
“You were there, weren’t you?”
“No. I wasn’t.” He scratched the side of his face. His whiskers made a
sound like a fingernail being filed. “At least, not there there.”
“Speak English, Jim.”
There was a long pause. Jimmy skidded his hands down his thighs, looked around the newsroom.
“You know something.” Eddie wasn’t going to let it go.
“Not really. I got no proof. And even if I did, you’d only think I was telling you because her and Joanie don’t get along no more.”
“No, I wouldn’t. Tell me what?”
Jimmy put his fists on his knees, let some air out. “Off the record?”
“Yes. Scout’s honor.”
“And Dot here?”
“She’s not going to say anything either.”
I crossed my heart.
Another long pause, then: “I’m only telling you this, Eddie, because I don’t want you stepping on the wrong toes. Might even help you know when to shut up—although that strikes me as unlikely.”
We laughed dutifully, and then Jimmy took a big breath, as if he was going to blow up a balloon, and began to talk.
“So this was when me and Joanie was dating. I was working here, but as soon as the supper bell rang, I’d hop in my ’39 Ford and burn up Highway 7 to see her. Wouldn’t make it home before two, but I’d be at work first thing the next morning, bright as a new penny. Young love, eh? Anyway, I was driving home that night. Just made the turn past Kendall’s Landing and there’s this car off the road. Came up on me pretty fast. Had to slam on the brakes, and even so I almost hit her. Dark hair, dark dress, changing the tire. Barely saw her.”
“Saw who?”
“Muriel. Didn’t I say that already?”
“Muriel Smees?” Eddie and I said it at the same time.
Jimmy smiled. “That’s good luck, you know. Saying things together. Me and Joanie always go jinx and—”
Eddie was sitting up straight in his chair, elbows flat on the armrests, like someone had just hit him with a jolt of electricity. “You saw Muriel Smees on the side of the road the night the baby was born.” Neither of us had really believed it when she said she’d been at the clearing.
Jimmy gave a slow nod. “I know. Surprised me too. Didn’t think Muriel knew how to drive. Never seen her drive, before or since. Can’t imagine she’d know how to change a tire.”
“Whose car?” I asked.
“Didn’t recognize it. Black one. Not theirs. Walt didn’t get a car until ’52, ’53, something like that.”
Eddie nodded.
“So I says, Got a problem, Muriel? And she pops up with the tire iron in her hand like she’s going to haul off and lambaste me. You’re probably not surprised—but Muriel wasn’t that way back then. Never was a barrel of fun, but, believe it or not, she wasn’t always mad at the world. I went, Muriel, it’s me, Jimmy, and she went, Oh, didn’t recognize you.”
He snorted. “Not recognize me? I’m four inches and fifty pounds bigger than any man in these parts, and I’ve known her all my life. But I let it go. People are strange. I says, Let me do that for you. I go to take the tire iron from her and she says, No, Jimmy, I don’t need your help.”
He pulled back his chin and looked first at Eddie, then at me.
“I don’t need help from the likes of you. That’s the way she says it. Now, she’d moved up in the world and was working for the Adairs back then, but that don’t make any difference. We’re both just townies. One’s no better than the other. I had half a mind to get in my truck and go. But ditch a woman on the side of the road? Not my style. I says, Then I’ll drive you home and come back for the car tomorrow. Well. You should have seen the look on her face. As if I was going to get her alone and do something unspeakable to her. I’m not that type of guy.”
“No. You’re not, Jimmy.” I got the feeling Eddie just wanted to move the story along.
“So we have this standoff, her up against the car, refusing to budge, me with my hands on my hips, neither of us willing to give an inch. Then all of a sudden she flicks her chin up and says, You go get Walt. I’ll stay here until he comes for me. I’ll be fine.
“No convincing her otherwise. So I says okay and reach out to put my hand on her shoulder, just to reassure her like, and she flinches. You know, kind of moves her head to the side. That’s when I see someone lying in the backseat. And I know Muriel saw me see it too. You better get going, she says, sweet as pie, as if she’s worried I’ll be late for tea. I should have asked what was up then, but I didn’t. She was working too hard to distract me, so what was the point? I told her to get in the car and lock the door, and then I drove into town and woke up Walt.”
“Know who was in the backseat?” Eddie was practically panting.
“No. I just saw legs. A lady’s legs. I figured one of her girlfriends got herself drunk and Muriel was trying to sneak her home without anyone seeing. Never would have thought any different, but then rumors started circulating about that disappearing baby, and I found myself getting suspicious. Truth is, I couldn’t imagine a single one of Muriel’s friends passed-out drunk. Those girls wouldn’t take a nip on New Year’s Eve if the pope himself were pouring.”
He had a little chuckle at that.
“But by the same token, her friends weren’t the type to give birth in the woods neither. So maybe I’m way off base here. See why I wouldn’t want this published? All speculation. Never even told Joanie. Lady in the back might justa got a bad perm she couldn’t bear anyone seeing. Joanie didn’t step outside for a month after her sister gave her one. Might be a perfectly innocent explanation for the whole thing. I’ve just never had the courage to ask Muriel what that might be. And now, with her and Joanie at each other’s throats over that IODE dinner, guess I never will.”
“Any chance Mrs. Smees was the mother?” I asked, sick at the thought.
“Nah. If Muriel were the mother, wouldn’t she be the one in the backseat? Even she ain’t tough enough to be changing a tire right after pushing a baby out.”
He sighed and scratched his big head. “I feel awful bad about that night.”
“Why?” Eddie said. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Not sure about that. Muriel was in a bad way. I could see that. I should have stood my ground. I brought Walt back but can’t imagine he was much good to her, given how he was after the war. No better than a robot. That’s what I tell Joanie when she gets on a rant about her. Say what you will about Muriel Smees, but she’s not a bad person. Walt come back a different man than the one she married, but she stuck by him. More than you can say for a lot of girls around here.”
There was an awkward silence. Then Jimmy banged his hand against his chair and popped up.
“Oh Lord. Sorry, Eddie. Wasn’t talking about Dorcas. Salt of the earth, your mother. No one would blame her. I was talking about someone else. Honestly. Thinking of someone else entirely.”
Eddie waved it off. “I know you weren’t, Jimmy. We all know what Dad’s like.”
“Not saying anything about Gunky neither. Love the guy. Like a big brother to me.”
Jimmy’s head lolled back and forth as if he had lead weights hanging from his ears. “I sure managed to do more than my fair share of damage for one day. Joanie’s right. I should save my big mouth for eating. What goes in causes a lot less trouble than what comes out.”
Twenty
I WANTED TO find my parents. I wanted to find out who I was, where I came from, all that stuff. But that was only part of it now and not even the best part.
I was in it now mostly for other reasons. The way Eddie’s face kind of lit up when I mentioned something he hadn’t thought of yet. The way we didn’t even have to look at each other to know we were both thinking the same thing. The way we could sit happily for hours, ruminating on the craziest scenarios. It was like the best daydream I’d ever had. A wild story racing ahead of me. My imagination, for once, the little fat kid at the back, screaming, “Wait for me! Wait for me!”
We stayed up late that night on the steps of the seamstress’s cabin, chewing on
the idea of Mrs. Smees being mixed up in this whole business.
The mother?
Jimmy seemed positive it wasn’t her baby.
The accomplice?
More likely, although that was strange too. We both knew Mrs. Smees didn’t have her driver’s license. She hitched a ride into work every morning with Mr. Oliphant, and every morning she said the same thing: Worth learning to drive if only so I never have to put up with that yakking of his again.
“Maybe that whole experience turned her off driving?” I said.
“What whole experience?”
“Finding the mother bleeding on the side of the road, having to get her to safety, spirit the baby out of town…”
“That’s what happened?”
“Well. Um. Maybe. I don’t know. Do you?”
“No,” he said. “I don’t know anything.”
And maybe we were just tired, but somehow that struck us as funny, not knowing anything, and we began lobbing out other ideas for how a girl could have found herself curled up in the back of a car driven by Mrs. Smees, and maybe we started with more or less plausible suggestions, I can’t remember, but things wobbled out of hand pretty fast, and soon we were gasping out truly appalling ideas about kidnapped babies and dead seamstresses, tears streaming down our faces, lips right against each other’s ears, bodies slack from laughing and—what seemed to me, at least—utter joy. I was never so thankful to have been an abandoned baby in my entire life.
It must have been two or three in the morning before Eddie tiptoed out of the colony, shoes in one hand, hair like a startled cat’s, and even then I couldn’t bear for him to go.
Twenty-One
AT LUNCHTIME THE next day, I grabbed a sandwich from the cafeteria, then ran back through the rain to buy a postcard at the lodge’s front desk. I was going to write Mrs. Hazelton, tell her all about my new life. (Except the Eddie part. I wanted her to be proud of me, not hopping the next train and dragging me back to Hope by the ear he’d just been nibbling on.)