OUR GUEST AUTHOR TODAY IS THE BRILLIANT, DAVID W THOMPSON, WHO IS SHARING A CHAPTER FROM HIS NOVEL, 'THE MYSTERY AT LOVE'S MANOR' #RWRTeamBlog #ReadWriteRepeat
- Eva Bielby
- 5 days ago
- 17 min read
Updated: 5 days ago
Chapter Two
I hurried back to the kitchen before the sheriff discovered my eavesdropping. Maria was there flipping pancakes for Nana’s late breakfast. Maria was a stunning woman even without trying, but she made the extra effort. I looked at her mass of wavy blonde curls and wondered how long it took staring into a mirror to achieve the look. Geez, Emma—envious much? Still, I’d trade those waves of gold for my straight auburn tresses in a heartbeat. When Maria entered a room, all heads turned, male and female, for different reasons.
“How’s Daniel doing in there with the Gestapo?” she asked.
“I think the Third Reich is done with Daniel for now. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was up in Nana’s room questioning her.”
“He won’t get much out of the old gal, I’m afraid.”
“Can I be upfront with you, Maria?’
“Of course, you can, Emma. We’ve known each other for a long time since you used to babysit me.”
“Okay, then…the sheriff seemed very interested in your relationship with my brother. Is that something we need to be concerned about?”
Her face flushed red, and the pancake she was adding to Nana’s plate slipped from the spatula, hit the edge of the stove, and dropped to the floor.
“I think I got my answer. Not judging, but it may have ramifications with this case. I thought…I mean I think a lot of Gwen. I hope you haven’t…No, never mind.”
“Emma, you don’t understand. It wasn’t like that…”
“We’re all selfish in our desires sometimes, Maria. We forget or ignore the people our choices hurt.”
Her eyes welled up, and her lips quivered as she searched for a response.
At the sound of footsteps in the hall, I held a finger to my lips to hush her. The door flew open, slamming into one of the cabinets, and the rogue bull—Sheriff Wathen—stuck his head in the door.
“What are you two hens in here cackling about?”
“Our total lack of confidence in our elected officials,” I replied.
“Yup, same old smart-mouthed Emma Love. One of these days that mouth’s gonna get you in trouble. Well, ladies”—he raised one eyebrow, and stared at Maria—“we’re starting a search party. Got some men from town and my deputies are ready to go, so if you’d like to join the search? We can use the extra sets of eyes.”
“I’m in,” I said.
“We’re meeting out front. Everyone is already gathering.”
“Will Nana be okay if I come along too?” Maria asked.
“Gwen said there’s a monitor in her room and you can access the feed from your phone?”
Maria nodded. “Let’s go then.”
Snatching rain parkas from the hall closet, Maria and I hurried to catch up. The yard was full of volunteers from many walks of life: bankers, farmers, and lawyers. I smiled to see the town drunk there, swaying in his tracks, yet eager to help. A horse and buggy pulled up, and three of our Mennonite neighbors stepped out and joined the milling crowd.
The sheriff clapped his hands, and all conversations stopped. “Okay, everyone. First, thank you for coming out on this nasty day to help us look for Gwen Love, a friend and neighbor to us all. I don’t know what we’ll find, but any sign out of the ordinary: cloth, footprints, or heaven help us—blood, yell out to me or one of the deputies. I’d like everyone to join up with a partner as we move through the field toward the tree line over there by the county road.” The sheriff pointed toward the far property line. “Try and keep about five yards or so between yourselves and the next pair of searchers. Any questions? No? Okay, let’s move out.”
“Emma?”
I turned toward Sam’s voice. “I’d like to join up with you to search if that’s all right?” He glanced at Maria. “But if you two are going together, that’s okay too.”
I slipped my hand into the crook of Sam’s elbow. “We’ll just go as a trio, then. The sheriff won’t mind…much. I’m not sure he can count to three anyway, and he did tell us the more eyes the better.”
“I wouldn’t sell him too short, Emma. John Wathen is smarter than he acts, but he does have a hidden dark side. He’s an angry man.”
“I don’t think his dark side is so artfully hidden, Sam. Oh, do you know Maria?”
Maria held out her hand and smiled her dazzling smile, reminding me of a toothpaste commercial. Flirting came naturally to her.
“I’m so pleased to meet you, Sam. Is that short for Samuel? Weren’t you at the oyster festival? I read in the county paper that you are the Assistant Sheriff now. Congratulations. You’re so tall and handsome in your uniform too.”
Sam’s face turned the shade of red that our sunsets are renowned for. “Yes, ma’am, thank you.”
I stopped and stared at the two of them. “Seriously? Can we please remember why we’re here?” I barked. They both dropped their eyes to the ground and Sam turned an even deeper shade of scarlet. Seeing their lips pout and noting the awkward silence, I regretted my outburst, but for the love of God, Gwen was missing! This wasn’t some love connection. Maybe, just maybe, I was a bit jealous too. Nah, there was no room in my life for a boyfriend.
We traversed half the field before another word was spoken.
Sam stopped in his tracks and held out his arms, so we’d do the same.
“Got tracks over here, Sheriff.”
The sheriff was fifty yards or so behind us and I marveled at how a man his size could cover so much ground so fast. He glanced at the tracks.
“Looks like the ones we found closer to the house. Same deal though. Rain washed out any tread marks from the shoes. Can’t even tell if it’s a man’s or a woman’s shoes; they’re too distorted.”
“It looks like they’re headed to that patch of woods where the creek runs through. Not a good sign. The county road is just on the other side,” Sam said.
The search continued, and Sam’s concern proved to be true. The footprints entered the creek bed, and although we searched the opposite side, we could not find where they came out of the thicket.
The three of us followed the creek for hours as the search party’s numbers dwindled.
Ahead of us, I spotted the Dawsons’ house and suggested we stop there and see if the family had noticed anything odd.
Abigail, the family matriarch, answered the door after the first knock. Dressed in a flower print dress that barely contained her, she swooped me up in her arms.
“Emma, child, you haven’t changed a bit. You’re still cute as a button. I see big city life didn’t change you any, or not that I can tell. They didn’t corrupt you up there, did they? Turn you away from the ways of our Lord?”
“Thank you, Mrs. Dawson, and no, at least I don’t think so.”
“I’m still Abby, child, same as always. Why did you leave here so quickly? I’ve missed your visits, especially since Jessie…”
“There wasn’t much for me to do…” I began.
“And is that you, Sammy Mattingley? Why, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes? I always thought the two of you might end up together.”
I glanced at Sam. He was staring back at me.
Abbie looked past me, and her eyebrows shot up when she spotted Maria. Her lips contracted into a hard thin line, and her voice became raspy.
“Why don’t you young people come in for a cup of coffee? Or would you prefer tea or a soda? I’m afraid we don’t have much else to offer. No alcohol in this house, I promise you that. My husband would have a fit.”
“No, ma’am, I think we’re fine,” Sam said, but I’d known Abigail Dawson for a long time and knew she’d never be satisfied if she couldn’t offer her unexpected and uninvited guests something. She was the closest thing I had to a mother after my parents died…her and Nana.
“I think we could all use a cool glass of that fresh well water you have, Abby.”
“Now there’s my girl. Nothing like a cool drink of Earth juice, is there? Just the way the good Lord intended.”
“We can’t stay long, Abby. I’m not sure you heard, but Gwen is missing. The house was broken into, and we’re searching for any sign of her or what happened. Have you noticed anything strange lately?”
“Oh my, no. I hadn’t heard anything about that, the poor child. Mr. Dawson will be devastated to hear this. You know my husband Michael, don’t you, Sam? He thought a lot of Gwen, often meeting up with her for coffee and chatting. He taught her way back in elementary school, you know?”
“Yes, ma’am. So, you haven’t noticed anything odd lately, Abby?” I asked.
“Well, now, as a matter of fact I did, now that you mention it. I woke up in the wee hours last night. I thought maybe there was a fox after the chickens and that was what woke me up. The moon was full, and I could see clearly as day before the rain started. There was a man at the edge of your field walking away from the trees, a big man. Looked like he was searching up and down for something. You know me. I was too nosy to leave that window, but I finally went back to wake my husband. The big man was long gone by the time Michael dragged himself out. I swear my husband moves slower than molasses in January when he first gets up. He told me I was imagining things, and we went back to sleep. It was still dark when Michael left the house this morning. I guess I’ll be a bachelorette for a few nights.”
“Where did Mister Dawson get off to?” Sam asked. “He’s off to the same place as every other year about this time. He and a couple of his old teacher buddies get together and go trout fishing up north, somewhere in Allegany County, I believe. He never brings home any fish to speak of. I think it’s an excuse to get with the boys and do manly things. I don’t worry too much. My Michael’s not a drinker, but I don’t know about the rest of them.”
“I don’t think you have to worry about Mr. Dawson, Abby. I do hope he has some luck fishing this year,” I said.
Abby snorted and rolled her eyes at the ceiling. “Do you have any thoughts on what the man might have been doing last night?” I asked.
“I had Jack walk out there when he finally got up. You know teenagers—they like to sleep in. I told him to see if he could find anything that man might’ve been up to…”
She walked over to a basket sitting by her stairs and reached inside.
“Jack found something. I don’t know if it means anything to you or not. It might have washed down from the county road. People are always tossing their trash out of their car windows. Trashy people do trashy things, I guess.”
She held up a single shoe. One of the pair of pink fur-lined clogs I’d sent to Gwen for her birthday.
****
We said our goodbyes at the door and thanked Abby for her hospitality.
“You’re welcome here any time, my young friends. It’s so good to see you both.” She glared at Maria. I knew the “both” wasn’t said by accident and wasn’t intended to include her. “Young people forget about us old folks sometimes. I hope Gwen turns up soon.”
Sam and Maria went out the door first, and Abby pulled me back inside behind the door where they couldn’t see.
“Wait, Emma. I have some fresh-baked cookies for you. Chocolate chip is your favorite, I believe?”
“That took a while,” Sam said when I rejoined them several minutes later. “What was going on besides cookies?”
“Nothing. Just girl talk. Abby hasn’t seen me in a while.”
Sam raised one eyebrow and pursed his lips but said no more about it. We walked back to the house, entertained by our thoughts. Again, Sam stopped and held out his arms, then pointed into the brushy hedgerow at the field’s edge. A man stood there watching us. He was small in stature, but easy to see despite his attempt at concealment. His lime green hoodie drew the eye and the pine sapling he stood behind couldn’t hide even his thin frame.
“That’s Jack, Abby’s son,” Maria said. “Should we go talk to him?”
I was already walking his way.
“Hold up, Emma,” Sam said, falling in step beside me. The young man never moved from his position, reminding me of a rabbit in its form. Can’t see me. I’m invisible.
“Hello, Jack. Could we talk with you for a minute?” He looked as if he might run away now that he accepted the inadequacies of his hiding spot.
He stepped out from behind the pine and took a few steps across the field to where we stood. He nodded at Sam and me but saved a special gaze for Maria.
“How have you been, Maria? I’d hoped we could have lunch together again.”
“Hi, Jack,” Sam said. “Your mom showed us this shoe you found this morning.” He held up the shoe in its evidence bag. “Can you tell us where you found it?”
“At the edge of the creek,” he answered. His eyes never left Maria. “Ma said she’d seen some dude out here last night, but her eyes ain’t all that great anymore, but I looked just the same.”
“Well, this may be an important clue you found. Did you see anything last night or discover anything else this morning?” I asked.
Jack swiveled his eyes to look at me. I don’t think he’d noticed me until that moment.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“Emma Love. I’m Daniel’s sister, Jack.”
“Uh huh, Gwen’s sister-in-law then?”
“That’s right.”
The teenager pulled a comb from his pocket and ran it through his slicked-back blond hair.
“She’s quite a looker. I’d like to enjoy a few lunches with her if you know what I mean, but I think Pops had the hots for her, so you know—can’t keep everything in the family. It’s a shame really…”
“You knew Gwen was missing then?” I asked.
“Missing, umm, no. What do you mean?”
“You said, ‘it’s a shame?’ What is? And then you said your dad ‘had the hots for her,’…past tense?”
“Like I’m some English major or something? But Dad, yeah, maybe he had one of those crisis of conscience things that Ma and the Rev are always preaching about. Yeah, that’s it. Look, I gotta go now. I heard Ma calling me in for lunch. Real nice seeing you, Maria.” He winked at her and ran across the field toward his house. We stood staring after him.
“Maria, what the hell? He’s what, all of sixteen years old?” I asked.
“No, no, no. A thousand times—No. Nothing like that happened, Emma. I’m not that…I’d never…well, you know.”
“Why don’t you tell us then, Maria.”
“We did have lunch, I guess, but that’s all it was. I was out walking on the edge of the field one afternoon. I often do. Daniel will tell you. I have a little spot where I take a bag lunch and have a little private picnic, except it wasn’t private that day. Jack showed up, and we shared my sandwiches. He must have misread the situation and put the moves on me. I was as gentle with him as I could be while making sure he knew—there was no way! He apologized, and that was that. I feel sorry for him.”
“Sorry? You were lucky. It could have gotten ugly fast.”
“She’s right,” Sam agreed. “Why didn’t you report it?”
“Report what exactly, Deputy? Nothing happened. I told you. I explained some things to him, and he was embarrassed. He didn’t act like this then either. I think he’s on something, high or drunk maybe?”
“Explained what things?” I asked.
“I just told him he was young, and he was like a little brother.”
We fell silent again as we approached the house, keeping our counsel as Nana used to say, or downloading the events of the day. I thought about what Abby had whispered to me as we were leaving.
“I don’t like to speak ill of anyone, Emma,” she’d said, “but I warned Mister Love about that wife of his. He was always good to us. With God as my witness, I told him to keep an eye out. I always thought it was men who couldn’t be trusted, but the women in that house…the shenanigans. It wasn’t natural, and I told him so.” She wiped her palms on her apron. “I know I keep a watchful eye on my man and my little wannabe man. Mister Love thanked me. Said he had his suspicions and would take care of it soon. I’m a God- fearing woman and I’ll not be the first to cast any stones. I’ll not be mentioning any of this to the sheriff or around your deputy friend, mind you. They might get the wrong idea.”
****
The house was quiet after the excitement of the morning. No police car bubblegum lights flickered in the yard. It was an odd feeling as if the house was waiting for something or someone. But I get these feelings sometimes.
“This is the house I always think of when people talk about places absorbing strong emotions and events over the years. The walls seep with memories, don’t they? I can’t imagine growing up here,” Sam said. I guess he felt it too.
“Looks like the sheriff decided you didn’t need your cruiser. I can give you a ride back to the station after I visit Nana for a few minutes. If you don’t mind being seen in my dilapidated old Bronco, that is?”
“That old yellow Bronco is a classic, Emma, just like you. I’d be honored, thanks.”
I looked at him and bit back a smile—pretty sure he considered calling me a classic to be a compliment.
“I’m going to make a fresh pot of coffee,” Maria said. “I need it after being out in the dampness so long. Anyone else up for some?”
“I’d love some,” Sam said. I flashed Maria a thumbs-up as I climbed the stairs to Nana’s room.
I knocked at her door, but knowing she didn’t hear well, I opened it and went in. Despite the vase full of garden flowers on the nightstand, the room smelled of old people and moth balls. Nana was sitting at her usual spot, her easy chair by the window.
“Nana? How are you feeling today?” “Sarah, is that you? Where have you been?” “No, Nana, it’s Emma, Sarah’s daughter.”
“Of course you are. Come closer, sweet girl. Let me look at you.”
I rolled the desk chair over to sit by her side.
“You look just the same, Sarah. Why haven’t you visited me? Is that husband of yours keeping you too busy on the farm? You tell my son Dan that I said you need a break now and then to come to see me.”
“Nana, Mom and Dad are both…” I started but thought better of it. I moved the chair closer, hoping she’d recognize me. Her eyes were clouded with cataracts, but I still saw the love reflected there. “It’s me, Emma. I’m sorry I haven’t been here lately.”
“Emma?”
“Yes, Nana, it’s me.”
“You’re such a lovely girl. Daniel Junior drove you off, poor child.” Her eyes misted over.
“It’s okay, Nana,” I said and took her hand in mine. “I’m here now.”
“Your son can be a prick sometimes, Sarah.”
A giggle threatened to burst forth, and I bit my lip to maintain composure. Nana never used expletives.
“Poor boy got that from his father. All self- righteous, prim, proper, and tight-assed.”
“Nana!” I said, shocked.
“I’m sorry. It’s Emma, isn’t it? I shouldn’t use such language around a young girl like you.”
“It’s okay, Nana. Tell me what you’ve been up to. Have you read any good books lately?”
“Land o’Goshen, child. I wish I had the time to read. Agatha Christie has a new mystery out, you know? I do love Miss Marple.”
“What’s been keeping you so busy?”
“Keeping up the house, of course. Today your father and I dug up the potatoes from the garden. After they cure some, we’ll load them up in the root cellar. Lordy, I hope there’s room. So much has been put in there already.”
“What have you harvested?”
“We’ve stored the usual things: carrots and turnips, and some winter squash. Your father even planted some parsnips this year, though Lord knows why. Nobody in this house eats those nasty things. Probably Gwen’s idea, some new fad diet of hers. Everybody’s putting their favorites in there, I guess.”
“Well, you can’t be too prepared for winter.”
“That’s right. Will you take me home now, Sarah? I’m tired and want to get to my bed.”
“Nana, you are home. This is your room. See? There’s the window you love looking out of.”
“I do love my window, and they don’t like me seeing everything that I see, but it’s still not my room. It just looks like my room. Somebody’s trying to trick me, Sarah. There are all these people outside day and night. This isn’t my home.”
“We did have a lot of company today, Nana.”
“At least I don’t hear all the voices at night like I used to. Maybe the ghosts are too old to be wandering about.”
“I didn’t know you believed in ghosts, Nana.”
“Well, I talk to my husband Frank all the time, don’t I? And there’s an old woman too, old as me. Sometimes I hear Maya scrambling around. Do you remember her, Sarah?”
“I sure do. I talk to her sometimes in my dreams.”
Nana turned in her chair and clutched my arm until it hurt. She stared at me with a disturbing intensity. “You saw something, didn’t you…that day?”
“When Nana?”
“When what? Did I tell you about the potatoes? We had a good crop this year. We won’t go hungry this winter.”
Maria came in with coffee for Nana then, and I said my goodbyes. I met Sam in the kitchen and filled my go-cup with the fresh-brewed coffee. “Ready to head back?” I asked.
“Yes, ma’am. How did it go with your grandmother? Good visit?”
“It was good to see her, but she’s gone down so much since I saw her last, poor thing.”
The corners of Sam’s mouth curled down. “I’m sorry to hear that, Emma. I always liked your grandmother. She was always a lot of fun.”
“She was that.”
“By the way, Daniel came in and said he wanted to see if you’d stay the night. Something about presenting a unified front. I guess he’s feeling picked on by the sheriff’s office.”
“I’ll grab an overnight bag at the house and head back here. If nothing else, I have my carry permit. The only gun in this house hasn’t left its spot over the mantel for twenty years. It might hurt the shooter more than the target.”
“Your P.I. training might come in handy too, especially if the kidnapper calls with ransom demands. The sheriff has the phone bugged—just so you know.”
The ride back to town went fine until Sam ruined it. After a long period of silence, he opened with, “Whatever happened to you, Emma? We had a good thing, or I thought we did. My folks threw that party for me when I graduated from the Southern Maryland Criminal Justice Academy. After that, you were gone without saying a word.”
“Let’s not do this, Sam.”
“Please let me finish, Emma. I think you owe me that much at least. There wasn’t even a goodbye from you. When I asked, even your brother acted like he didn’t know anything. After several days of worrying about you, Robert Wathen, of all people, told me you’d left town for good. Surprisingly, after the events of that night. I admit, I was hurt. Was it something I did?”
“Look, I’m sorry if you were hurt, Sam. I never wanted that. It wasn’t my intent, but there were things you don’t know…”
“So, tell me now. What things?”
“I can’t.”
“You don’t trust me enough?”
“Don’t feel bad, Sam. I don’t trust anyone enough, but you’re the only one I trusted to tell that I’ve been back in town for these past six months. Not even my family knew.”
“Who or what were you running from, Emma?” he asked.
I shook my head.
The silence stretched out, and with a sense of relief, I pulled into a parking space in front of the sheriff’s office. Sam grabbed the door handle but seemed in no hurry to get out.
“Emma, I just want—” he started.
“Sam, what did you mean by ‘the events of the night?’ Did something happen with Robert Wathen that I don’t know about?”
“You don’t know? Well, I’m not sure I can trust you enough to tell you.”
My lips pouted and I gave him what I hoped was a soulful look.
“All right already. You can quit with the hurt face. He was saying stuff…crap about you.”
“What did he say.”
“Stuff that I won’t repeat.”
“So, nasties then.”
“It doesn’t matter. He didn’t say them long. I told him to shut up. When he didn’t, I broke his nose. He deserved it, but it almost kept me out of the Field Training Program.”
“Sam, I’m so sorry, but you shouldn’t have.” I reached out and held his hand. “My hero, defending my honor.” The look in his eyes changed…softened, and he leaned over and pursed his lips. I wasn’t sure where he planned to plant that kiss, and I turned my head to accept it on the cheek.
“You’re the best friend I have here, Sam. Let’s not ruin it.”
Sam nodded and got out of the Bronco without another word. The rain started falling in earnest.
**********
COMING SOON: On Monday, 21st July, our team member, author Eva Bielby, meets the Flash Fiction Challenge with her short story, 'The Forgotten Repository'.
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