BARBOURVILLE
Ellie stared up at the charming House of Grace, a licensed and highly respected home for unwed mothers according to her Google search. The large three-story 1930s home sported a fresh coat of white paint and a roof that sloped down to eaves with charming blue trim. A bay window jutted out into a garden where pink and blue tulips surrounded by rows of white peonies.
At the front door, she and Quinn paused at a life-sized statue of a young mother holding her infant.
Did my mother hold me like this … perhaps right on this spot?
In the lobby, they approached a red-haired teenage receptionist working on an iPad lodged atop her very pregnant stomach.
Ellie explained why they were here.
“Oh, y’all wanna talk to Director Smythe. She’s down that hall. Last office.”
They thanked her, walked down the hall, passing a pregnant teenager laughing on her cell phone, and stepped into Director Smythe’s small, wood-paneled office. Smythe, around fifty, was on the phone and waved them into two pink velvet chairs faded by the sun pouring through the window.
Ellie looked around. Walls filled with numerous professional awards, a Ph.D. in Sociology from the University of Kentucky and photos of smiling young mothers with babies. Smythe was a trim woman with large green eyes framed by salt and pepper hair. Her blue blazer, rimless glasses and immaculate desk suggested a buttoned-up Director.
She hung up, smiled at them, and extended her hand. “Ashley Smythe. Welcome.”
Ellie and Quinn shook her hand and introduced themselves.
“How can I help you?”
Ellie leaned forward. “Judge Nesbitt over in Harlan suggested we might talk to a Drucilla Dunhill here. He said Drucilla sometimes delivers babies from here to families in the area, including Harlan.”
“That’s true. But sadly, Drucilla passed away two years ago.”
“Oh …” Ellie felt her hope fade.
“Drucilla was a wonderful woman. Handled many of our babies.”
“I may be one of them. I was delivered to Harold and Joyce Stuart over in Harlan twenty-one years ago. They’ve since passed away.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Ellie.” Smythe seemed genuinely saddened by the news. “I wasn’t here back then, but Drucilla’s old file should tell us if she delivered you from here to the Stuarts. Let’s take a look.”
She unlocked a nearby cabinet and took out a metal box. She unlocked it, flipped through a stack of large index cards and moments later pulled one out.
“Here we are. Drucilla picked up a baby girl here and delivered her to Harold and Joyce Stuart in Harlan.”
“That’s me!” Ellie’s heart pounded. “Does it mention my mother’s name?”
Dr. Smythe looked at the back of the card.
“No. It doesn’t, Ellie. Sorry.”
“Could her mother’s name be in your computer files?” Quinn asked.
“It should be. Since you were picked up here. Let me look.”
“Thank you.”
“But Ellie, as you probably know, whether we can reveal your mother’s name depends on whether she gave us permission to.”
“I understand.”
“Most mothers who give up their babies don’t give permission.”
“I know, but I’ve heard some mothers permit the release of non-identifying information, like age, ethnicity, and the general area where they live?”
“That’s true, but again the mother decides if we’re allowed to release that information.”
Dr. Smythe turned her computer screen away from them, then typed on the keyboard. She typed some more and waited. Her face revealed nothing. After several more commands, she faced them.
“That’s quite strange.”
“What?”
“Even though Drucilla’s card indicates you were picked up here, there’s no record in our files that your mother, or you, ever stayed at the House of Grace.”
Frustration hit Ellie like a screen door.
Quinn leaned forward. “Judge Nesbitt also mentioned another woman who works here. Mary Louise …”
Ashley Smythe fell back in her chair and lowered her head.
“What’s wrong?” Ellie asked.
Smythe’s eyes moistened and she took a deep breath. “Two nights ago … Mary Louise was … murdered! The police say the poor woman was smothered in her bed. Mary was a wonderful person. I loved her …”
“I’m very sorry …” Ellie said.
No one spoke for a few moments. Ellie felt like steel bands were squeezing her chest.
“But if Drucilla’s file said she picked me up here, why would my records be missing from your computer files?”
“That makes no sense, Ellie. The state board requires very accurate computer records.”
“How many people have access to your confidential computer files?” Quinn asked.
“Only my assistant and I.”
Quinn nodded. “But maybe someone hacked in and deleted Ellie’s records.”
Ashley Smythe frowned. “I’m told we have an excellent computer security. But I guess if hackers can break into the Pentagon files and the Director of the CIA’s files, they can break into ours and delete records.”
“But why? Why would anyone want to delete my records?”
Smythe shrugged. “It sounds like your adoption was illegal, Ellie. In other words, there’s no paper trail … maybe because someone doesn’t want you discovering your birth parents.”
No one spoke for several moments.
Ellie handed Smythe her card. “Well, Director, thank you for your time, and if you find anything in your old files, please call me at any time.”
“I will, Ellie. And good luck.”
“Thank you.”
Ellie and Quinn turned to go.
“Ellie …?” Smythe said.
“Yes?”
“Remember, your birth mother might be trying to find you … as much as you’re trying to find her.”
“I hope so.”
TWENTY THREE
As they walked down the House of Grace hallway, Ellie wondered if she was never meant to know her birth mother. Maybe fate was shielding her from some godawful truth about the woman.
Still, whatever it took, however long it took, Ellie would not stop until she knew her mom.
I was picked up here. My mother had been pregnant with me here, had walked down this same hallway. And Ellie wanted to savor the closeness a few more minutes.
She saw a sign above a hall door. Café Bébé.
They looked inside the empty café. It was decorated with pink and blue teddy bear wallpaper, pink and blue tables and chairs, even pink and blue vending machines. Wall charts displayed pre-natal exercises.
“My treat,” Ellie said. “Coffee with sugar, right?”
“Right.”
She dropped coins in the vending machine, got two coffees and handed one to Quinn, suddenly remembering that it was her spilled coffee at the U of L student center that brought this helpful guy into her life.
“I’ve come to an obvious conclusion,” Quinn said as they sat down.
“That someone intentionally deleted all information about my birth parents.”
“Yep.”
Behind her, pans rattled. She turned and saw a heavyset, sixty-something woman in a blue House of Grace uniform arranging pans behind a food counter. Her badge read LORETTA MAE.
Loretta Mae smiled at them. “Y’all visitin’ one of our girls?”
“No, ma’am. Just visiting.”
Loretta Mae’s dark hair was tied back in a bright red bow. Smooth ebony skin framed her big warm smile. She took out a large serving dish of meat loaf.
“You one of our girls?”
“I think so.”
“What’s your name, child?”
“Ellie Stuart. Twenty-one years ago, Drucilla Dunhill picked me up here and delivered me to my adoptive parents in Harlan.”
“Drucilla was a fine woman. She find only the best
parents.”
“She did for me!”
Loretta Mae smiled, then scrunched up her chubby face as though studying Ellie. “Betcha you tryin’ to find your birth momma.”
“Yes, ma’am. Were you here twenty-one years ago?”
“Hon, I was here when Dan’l Boone come through.”
Ellie laughed loud – which caused Loretta Mae to put down the meat loaf and stare at her.
“What’s wrong?”
“Your laugh!”
“What about it?”
“Sounds kinda familiar to me! Laugh agin for me!”
Ellie tried the same high loud laugh, but missed by several decibels.
Loretta Mae studied her face, then blinked as though searching her memory.
“Twenty-one years ago?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“What month wuz you borned in, hon?”
“December …” If the date on my fake birth certificate is right.”
Loretta Mae closed her eyes a few moments, then ran her hand over her face. “December … twenty-one years ago.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Loretta Mae took out a big dish of jello, then stared at the wall. All of a sudden, she smiled like the Cheshire cat.
“I know’d yo’ momma.”
Ellie’s heart stopped.
“Know’d yo’ momma good! She pretty jes’ like you. Lord knows you got her big eyes and her mouth. And lots of hair jes’ like hers, maybe a little browner. And you got her laugh – that’s a true fact!”
“You knew my mother?”
“Sho’ did. Sweet young thing.”
Ellie stood up, her heart pounding like a jackhammer, her mind spinning. “Did she come from around here?”
“Oh no. She come from far away, she did.”
“Another county?”
“No.”
“Another state?”
“No, hon, ‘nother country. One of them foreign ones.”
Ellie couldn’t speak.
“She had an accent, too!”
“My mother was foreign? What was her name?
“Les see … somethin’ like … Genevieve, or Jeanne … or Janine … no, been so long, shoot!”
Ellie leaned forward in her chair, waiting.
Loretta Mae closed her eyes and shook her head. “Wait, I ‘member now!”
“What?”
“Jacqueline!”
Quinn spurted his coffee all over the table.
TWENTY FOUR
What’s with Quinn? Ellie wondered. Doesn’t he realize he’s just spewed hot coffee all over his chin and shirt?
His stared at Loretta Mae as though she’d just levitated.
“Jacqueline’s my mother’s name?”
“That’s right, hon!”
“Did she have a French accent?” Quinn asked.
“Sho did! All time say stuff like ‘Bonjour’, and ‘oui, oui!’”
“Do you recall her last name?” Quinn asked, leaning forward, as coffee dribbled down his chin.
“Uh-uh. We jes’ go by first names ‘round here.”
“Who brought her here to the House of Grace?” Ellie asked.
Loretta Mae closed her eyes for several moments. “Older woman. Bossy old battle-axe, you ask me. Nasty mean! Look like a catfish. The kind of woman who’d throw a drowndin’ man both ends of the rope.”
“Her mother?”
“No way! That woman wasn’t no kin neither, Jackie told me. But that nasty old woman, she run the show. Bossin’ Jackie ‘round like a little kid. Jackie didn’t like her one dang bit!”
“Do you remember the nasty woman’s name?” Quinn asked.
Why is Quinn so obsessed with names? Ellie wondered.
Loretta Mae closed her eyes. “No. The woman only come here once’t … maybe twice’t. I never spent no time wit’ her. Thank you Jesus!”
“Was I born here?”
Loretta Mae shook her head. “No, hon. See, ‘bout three weeks before you was fixin’ to be borned, the mean woman, she come back here and took yo’ momma away.”
“Took her where?”
“I din’t never find out … .”
“So maybe I was born in a local hospital.”
“Uh-uh. Me and Mary Louise checked all the local hospitals. They din’t have no record of your momma, or you being borned there.”
Loretta Mae’s eyes suddenly filled with tears.
“What’s wrong?” Ellie asked.
“Poor Mary Louise, bless her. She was kilt in her own bed the other night. Murdered! She never hurt nobody! Mary was my bes’ friend here. She know’d your momma good. She know’d who you daddy was. But she would never tell.” Loretta Mae sat down and closed her eyes.
“I’m sorry, Loretta Mae …”
Loretta Mae nodded.
Ellie waited for the woman to compose herself. Moments later, she did.
“So, after my mother left here, did you see her again?”
Loretta Mae smiled. “Sho’ did. After you wuz born, your momma, she bring you here to show me and Mary Louise a few times. You wuz cute as a bug’s ear! Still are.”
Ellie felt herself blush.
“Do you remember what my mother named me?”
Loretta Mae closed her eyes. “Les’ see … your momma, she give you a different kinda name. Lordy, lemme think on it … . Cassandra … no … Annabelle … no … Antoinette, no! Dadgummit, it ain’t comin’ to me cuz I’m tryin’ too hard. Betcha I wake up wit it tonight.”
“If you do, please call me right away.” She gave Loretta Mae her phone number.
Loretta Mae nodded, then reached into the sink, grabbed a dirty frying pan, sprinkled some cleanser onto it and started scrubbing.
Then she stopped cold and stared wide-eyed at the can of cleanser for several moments. Then she smiled, turned and faced Ellie.
“I ‘member!”
“What?”
“The name what yo’ momma give you.”
Loretta Mae held up a can of Ajax.
“My mother named me … Ajax?
Loretta Mae laughed and slapped her thigh. “No, hon. Your momma named you Alex!”
Quinn spurted the rest of his coffee halfway across the cafeteria.
TWENTY FIVE
“Alex?” Quinn said, staring at Loretta Mae, coffee dripping from his face.
“That’s right!”
“You’re absolutely positive?”
“‘Course I am!”
“Why are you freaking out over the names?” Ellie asked.
“Because the names are freaking me out!”
“Why … ?”
“Because two hours ago, Irene Whitten, Leland Radford’s housekeeper, the woman I met in the Huddle House in Harlan, gave me two names.”
Ellie waited.
“Jacqueline and Alex, her baby boy.”
Ellie stared back, amazed that Quinn heard the same two names in two different towns within a couple of hours.
“Irene told me that many years ago, Leland Radford and his housekeeper, a woman named Jacqueline Moreau, had a baby boy, and Jacqueline named it Alex.”
“But that Alex was a boy!” Ellie said.
“Maybe not.”
“Why not?”
“Because Irene never saw Jacqueline’s baby. Wasn’t allowed to. She wasn’t even allowed to see or talk to Jacqueline on the phone after she left The Pines. So Irene assumed Alex was a boy. But in France Alex is also a girl’s name.”
Speechless, Ellie stared at Quinn.
“Radford never even knew Jacqueline had his baby.”
“Why?”
“Because Zelda, Radford’s sister, the mean woman Loretta Mae just mentioned, blackmailed Irene to never tell him. He only learned of his baby the day before he died.”
Ellie tried to speak, but nothing came out.
“Loretta Mae?” Quinn said. “Are you absolutely positive that Jacqueline here had a baby girl?”
“Damn sho’ am!”
“
And named her Alex?”
“That’s right.”
“But how can you be so positive that Ellie here is Jacqueline’s baby Alex?”
“’Cuz she got her momma’s face and hair. And she laugh ‘jest like her. And listen here … old Loretta Mae done changed your diapers a few times, girl!”
She smiled, walked over, bent down and said, “I’ll eat live lizards if y’all ain’t gotta birthmark shaped like Florida on your left butt, right about chere!” She touched Ellie’s upper left butt … an inch from her birthmark … shaped like Florida.
Ellie laughed out loud. “You’re right! My name is Alex!”
“‘Course it is!”
Ellie felt warm tears spill from her eyes.
Quinn walked over and hugged her. So did Loretta Mae.
Ellie whispered, “You knew my mom …”
“Knew her right good.” Loretta Mae handed Ellie a glass of water. She sipped some, wiped her eyes, then hugged the large woman again. “Thank you so much, Loretta Mae. Thank you so very much …”
“You’re welcome, chile. Your momma wuz sweet as sugar pie! Smart as a whip, too. And fun? Lord, that girl make me fall down laughin’, she truly did.”
“Do you have any idea where she lives now?”
Loretta Mae’s smile sank like a winter sun. She turned and looked out the window for several moments, then slowly faced Ellie with moist eyes.
“She wit the Lord, hon.”
Ellie slumped back in her chair.
“A few months after you wuz born, your momma died in a car accident out on 421. Rainy night, bad curve. Police said a big black tarp blowed off a truck, covered her whole windshield. Couldn’t see a lick. She crashed down into a ravine thousand feet below. I cried most a week.”
Ellie felt nauseated as fresh tears welled up. She had found … and lost her mother in five minutes.
“That confirms it!” Quinn said, wiping coffee from his chin.
“Confirms what?”
“What Irene told me. Jacqueline Moreau died in a car accident when her baby was an infant.”
No one spoke.
Loretta Mae placed her hands on Ellie’s shoulders. “Listen to old Loretta, chile. Yo’ momma loved you more than you can know. She held you all the time, kissed you and nursed you and sing them pretty French songs and you smiled up at her … and that’s a fact!”
Ellie felt her mother’s love flowing through Loretta Mae’s hands into her, like her mother was actually here again, holding her in her arms. And it felt wonderful.
Kentucky Woman Page 8