Home of  Mickey Minner

TWISTED SECRETS
First Draft
@ Copyrighted 2009

 The walk from the bus stop to the apartment building took all of what was left of Dorthea’s energy levels after a week of pulling double shifts at the factory and it didn’t help that she thought she might have a fever. She was looking forward to a long soak in a hot bath as she slowly made her way up the building’s steps.

“Hey,” Kimberly said, opening the apartment door. “I saw you dragging your butt across the courtyard,” she explained when her roommate looked at her quizzically, unaccustomed to being greeted in the hallway leading to their apartment. “Are you okay?”

“I think I’m getting sick,” Dorthea muttered continuing into the apartment without stopping.

Kim followed her inside and shut the door. Then she followed her into her bedroom. “You’ve been working too much.”

Dorthea dropped onto her bed and flopped onto her back. She closed her eyes when the room seemed to spin around her. “I know. But I need the extra money for my trip.” She felt a hand pressed against her forehead.

“You’re burning up. I’ll get some aspirin.”

Too tired to protest, Dorthea groaned instead. “Be a pal and turn on the tub while you’re in there,” she called out hoping Kim hadn’t already left the room. She sighed contently when she heard a rush of water a few moments later.

It wasn’t long before Kimberly returned to the bedroom with a glass of orange juice and bottle of aspirin. She noted that Dorthea hadn’t moved. “Sit up so you can take a couple of these,” she instructed then waited for her to comply. She handed her the glass of juice and, when Dorthea held out her other hand, shook a couple of the tablets into it. “I’ll make you some soup while you’re taking your bath. Then it’ll be off to bed with you.”

“Ugh,” Dorthea grumbled as her throat protested the tart juice. “I think I’m getting a sore throat, too.”

“Oh, honey,” Kimberly sympathized. “Go on, get undressed and into the tub. I’ll make you some tea; it’ll make it feel better.”

Dorthea pushed herself up from the bed then shuffled toward the closet.

Kimberly watched her for a moment then turned and left the room.

#

Dorthea awakened after sleeping through the night and most of Saturday. She groggily opened her eyes to see Kim tiptoeing into the room. “What time is it?” she asked, rolling onto her side and curling into a ball.

“A little after three. How do you feel?”

“Ugh.”

“Want me to make you some more tea?”

“You do know I hate the stuff.”

Kim sat on the edge of the bed. She pulled the blanket up to cover her friend’s exposed shoulder. “I know but it’s good for your throat. Is it still sore?”

Dorthea forced herself to swallow. “A little.”

“How about your fever?” Kim asked, placing her hand against her forehead. “You don’t feel as warm. Let me get the thermometer to make sure. Are you hungry?” she asked as she stood.

“Thirsty.”

“I’ll get you some juice. Be right back.”

Dorthea watched Kim leave then reluctantly threw off her blankets and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She pushed up to a sitting position and remained like that while she regained her equilibrium. When the room stopped spinning, she rose to her feet and shuffled toward the bathroom. When she returned a few minutes later, Kim was waiting for her.

“You’re not as pale as last night,” Kim said as she held the blankets while Dorthea crawled back under them.

“I hate being sick,” Dorthea grumbled then opened her mouth for the thermometer Kim was holding over her head.

Kim noted the time on the alarm clock sitting on the night stand. “I know few people who like it. Keep you mouth shut,” she scolded when Dorthea stuck her tongue out at her. They waited in silence until Kim decided enough time had passed and pulled the thermometer free. She smiled. “Dropped two degrees.” She shook the mercury back down to the bulb at the bottom of the register then reached for the glass of juice on the night stand. “Drink this. You need to take another dose of aspirin.”

Dorthea propped herself up onto her elbow. Still chilled from being recently removed from the refrigerator, the cold juice felt good as it slid down her throat. She stopped drinking after emptying half of the glass to take the offered aspirin. Then she finished off the juice. “Thanks,” she said, handing the glass back to Kim. “Maybe you shouldn’t be doing all this.”

Kim snorted. “And why not?”

“You might catch whatever I’ve got.”

Kim laughed. “That’s okay. I could use a few days off.”

“I’m serious, Kim.”

“So am I. Besides, it would serve old lady Kapin right if I called in sick. She might actually have to work.”

Dorthea snuggled back under her blankets. “Why don’t you talk to your boss about her.”

Kim settled again on the edge of the bed and brushed the matted hair off Dorthea’s forehead. “What good would it do? I know Mr. Jackson doesn’t like her but she’s the President’s assistant so he has to put up with her just like I do. And, believe it or not, the extra work isn’t too bad.” Kim chuckled. “For all her bluster, she really doesn’t do very much. And the stuff she passes on to me is actually letting me learn a lot I wouldn’t have the opportunity to if she did it herself. So, in a way, she’s really helping me. One of these days, she’s going to retire and, when she does, I’ll be first in line.”

“Do you really think you have a chance for that?”

“You bet. And think what it would mean… I bet Kapin makes four times what I make.”

Dorthea frowned as her thoughts filled with different scenarios of the various opportunities that would be available to Kimberly should she ever be promoted to the executive position. She sighed then forced a smile. “That would be nice for you,” she said quietly then forced a yawn. “I think I need to sleep some more.”

“That’s the best thing you can do,” Kim agreed. She tucked the blankets tightly around Dorthea then stood, collecting the dirty glass before she walked out of the room unaware of the pair of somber eyes watching her.

#

“One cup of hot chocolate with miniature marshmallows,” Kim announced as she came out of the kitchen. She carefully carried the steaming cup across the room to where Dorthea was wrapped in a blanket on the couch. It was Sunday evening and though she had protested, her roommate insisted she had to get out of bed. “I’m so glad you’re feeling better,” she said, placing the cup into Dorthea’s waiting hands.

“So am I.” Dorthea raised the cup to her lips to blow on the hot liquid.

“I still think you should stay home tomorrow.”

Dorthea took a cautious sip then lowered the cup. “I can’t. I really need the money. But I’m not going to work any double shifts, just a couple of extra hours a day.”

“Good.” Kim walked back across the room to their television. “And you don’t have to do those, if you don’t want. My offer is still good,” she said, switching on the set then spun the dial to the proper channel.

“I told you before—”

“I know, I know.” Kim turned the sound up before returning to the couch. “I’m just saying…”

Dorthea waited for her to sit before responding. “I really appreciate your offer, Kim. But I would like to do this myself.”

Kim smiled. “I understand. Just promise me, if you think you’ll going to be short, let me know. We’ll call it a loan and you can repay me after you get back from Kalona. Okay?”

Dorthea nodded. “Deal.”

Kim stood and returned to the television to turn the sound up some more. “We really need a set with remote control,” she grumbled as she returned to the couch.

“But think of all the exercise we get with this one.”

“I’d rather have a remote control. Maybe I’ll start checking out the sales. How’s your chocolate.”

“Good. Thank you.”

Kim handed Dorthea a napkin. “Mustache.”

Dorthea wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, giggling when Kim scowled. “Show’s about to start,” she said before she could be scolded.

Kim slapped the napkin down on Dorthea’s leg then settled back. “I’m not sure how I feel about Captain Picard yet,” she muttered while the opening credits played.

“Why?”

“He just seems so stiff.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm?”

Dorthea finished off her hot chocolate, this time using the napkin to wipe her mouth. “I like him,” she said, setting the empty cup on the coffee table. “It’s that Doctor Crusher I could do without. Doctor McCoy was better.”

“Think they’ll ever have a female captain?”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm?

“Shhh, it’s starting.”

#

Paul Bingham looked around at the view surrounding him. The sky was a deep blue and free of any clouds except a band of fluffy white ones far in the distance. A wide expanse of green grass stretched from his lawn chair to the chain-linked fence at the edge of the yard. He tried to remember when he had had the fence erected. “Esther?”

“Mom’s in the house, Paul.” Peter Hartling, a lanky young man in his mid-twenties commented from where he was kneeling beside the barbeque. He twisted the knob on the container of propane until it stopped turning then pushed himself upright. Then placed his thumb on the red button on the control panel of the barbeque and pressed it. A loud click was followed by a whoosh as the propane caught the spark and flames came to life. He adjusted the dials to the level he wanted then pulled the lid closed, leaving the grills to heat. “What can I get you?” he asked turning his attention to the man sitting a few feet away.

Paul looked up at Peter. “Who are you?”

“Peter. Remember, you live with me and mom.”

“Where’s Esther?”

Peter sighed then walked the few feet across the deck to the screen door leading into the kitchen. “Mom,” he called into the house, “he’s asking for you.”

“Talk to him.”

Peter frowned. “He doesn’t make any sense,” he grumbled. He looked through the screen door when he heard footsteps rapidly approaching. The door was pushed open and his mother stepped out onto the deck.

“Peter, we’ve talked about this.” Diane Hartling wrapped an arm around her son’s waist then softened her voice before she continued. “It’s called dementia. It causes him to have trouble remembering things. Just talk to him.”

“But—”

“Honey, I know it can be frustrating. But remember, he can’t help what’s happening to him.” Diane nudged Peter toward the far end of the deck where Paul sat. “Go on.” When he hesitated, she nudged a little harder. “It’s like he’s going to bite.”

“Are you sure?” Paul asked as he eyed Paul suspiciously.

Diane laughed. “Yes, I’m sure. Talk to him about all the things the two of you used to do together. Go on,” she encouraged.

“Okay. I’ll give it a try.”

#

CHAPTER TEN

 Dorthea breathed a sigh of relief when the shift bell rang. While she continued to load pressure cooker parts onto the conveyer belts, she looked anxiously over her shoulder and spotted her replacement, Char, sauntering toward their work station. She willed her to walk faster.

“Are you in a hurry to get out of here?” Char asked when she got close enough to see the anxious look on Dorthea’s face.

“Yes.”

“Oh?” Char pulled on her work gloves. “Something special happening tonight?”

“I have a bus to catch.”

“Don’t you have that every night?”

“This is different,” Dorthea said, scooting out of the way as Char stepped in to take her place between the conveyer belts and the wire baskets. Then she yanked off her own pair of gloves while Char leaned over one of the baskets. “I’m going out of town for a few days.”

Char abruptly straightened and spun around to face her co-worker. “Really?” she asked, a smirk spreading across her face.”

Dorthea smacked her with her gloves. “Stop it. It’s not for a guy. I’m going to… Um, I have some… Um, business, family business to deal with.”

Feigning extreme disappointment, Char returned to the baskets and pulled out a couple of lids. “Didn’t think you had any family except your aunt,” she commented, placing the lids on the appropriate conveyer belt.

“I don’t. At least, I don’t think I do.” Dorthea sighed. “It’s complicated. Listen, I really have to get going. I’ll see you Monday.”

“Okay. Have a good trip. Hey, where are you going, anyway?” she called out as Dorthea walked away.

“Kalona,” Dorthea called back over her shoulder.

“Kalona? What the hell could be in Kalona?” Char asked herself as Dorthea disappeared into the hallway that led to the wash room.

#

Dorthea hurried up the steps of the apartment building and across the lobby. She wasn’t too surprised to see Kim waiting for her, she had talked of nothing but her trip to Kalona all week and she was sure her roommate would welcome a few days of quiet.

Kim shooed her into the apartment as soon as Dorthea reached the door. “Your bath is running and I’ve got dinner cooking.”

“Kim, I don’t want to be late.”

Kim held up her hand, palm facing her friend. “Don’t argue. You have plenty of time and I refuse to let you out of here until you eat. Now go.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll—”

“Go! I’ll have dinner on the table when you get finished dressing. And don’t worry about your suitcase, I already double- and triple-checked it,” Kim called into Dorthea’s bedroom as she walked toward the kitchen. “Added a few things, too,” she murmured, smiling.

#

“Are these okay?” Dorthea asked when she entered the kitchen a half hour after arriving home.

Kim, searching for something in the refrigerator, looked back over her shoulder. “What?”

“These pants, are they okay? I…” Dorthea chewed on her lower lip for a few seconds. “I don’t know what’s appropriate.”

Kim pulled back from the refrigerator holding a jar of pickle slices. “For riding a Greyhound bus several hours?”

Dorthea dropped her eyes. “I’ve never done this,” she said apprehensively.

Kim placed the jar on the sink then moved to where Dorthea was standing. She squatted down so she could look up into her friend’s face. “I know you haven’t, honey. It’s going to be a long and tiring night on that bus. I say jeans are just the thing.” She smiled. “Might as well be comfortable.” She straightened. “Come on, let’s eat.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely, I’m starving.”

Dorthea laughed. “Not that. Are you sure about the jeans?

“It’s what I would wear,” Kim said as she retrieved the jar of pickles and carried it to the table. “They’re comfy and you’ve got pockets for change and such. I think they’re the perfect choice.”

Relieved to hear Kim’s approval, Dorthea followed her to the table and sat down. “So, what’s for dinner?”

“A nice healthy meal of hamburgers, fries, and salad— okay, that’s the healthy part. But I figured the hamburgers and fries will fill you up and you won’t get hungry during the ride to Kalona. And we’ll pack up the left-overs for you to take.”

“Sounds good to me.” Dorthea reached for the platter of fries. “I can’t believe you made these yourself.”

“It’s not that hard.” Kim placed a hamburger bun on each of their plates. “You take the package out of the freezer; open it and spread them out on a cookie sheet. Put them in the oven for fifteen minutes and, Ta Da!, homemade French fries.

“Thank goodness for frozen food.”

“Amen, to that. Pass the ketchup.”

#

“Okay, I think I’m ready.” Dorthea was standing in the doorway leading from her bedroom. She carried a jacket and purse in one hand and her suitcase in the other.

“Everything tucked safely away like I showed you?”

“Yes. I only have ten dollars in my purse.” She smiled. “And the hamburgers you wrapped up. I sure won’t get hungry before I get to Kalona.”

“They might not be fancy but they’re better than the food you’ll find in most of the bus stops. Where’s the rest of your money?”

Dorthea set the suitcase on the floor. She patted the right front pocket of her jeans. “Fifty in here and,” she said then reached across and patted the left pocket. “Fifty in here. The rest is in my shoes. Which,” she continued before Kim could say anything, “will never leave my feet.”

“Good.” Kim moved closer. “Please be safe,” she said, wrapping her arms around her best friend.

Dorthea was caught off guard by the unanticipated show of emotion. “I, ah…”

Kim released her hold just enough to lean back and glare at Dorthea. “Oh, stop stammering. Friends hug. I’ve seen them do it.”

“I know. It’s just… Well, it’s just not like you.”

Kim considered the comment then re-tightened her hold. “I prefer to think it is like me. Now, since I’m going to be alone in this place for the rest of the week, give me a hug to help me get through it.”

“You will be all right, won’t you?”

After several moments, Kim released her hold. “I’ll clean.”

Dorthea laughed. “Well, that should keep you busy. This place could use a good going over.”

Kim chuckled then sobered. “Please, be careful.”

“I will.”

“Okay, we better get going,” Kim noted, bending over to pick up the suitcase.

“We?”

“I thought I’d walk you to the bus stop.”

Dorthea smiled. “Thank you.”

“Come on.”

Dorthea followed Kim to the apartment door. “I can carry that.”

“I know but I might as well make myself useful.”

#

Halfway to the bus stop, Dorthea could no longer take the awkward silence that had fallen between them after leaving the apartment. “It’s about a thirty minute ride on the city bus to the Greyhound depot. I hope we’ve allowed enough time in case there’s heavy traffic.”

“We have.”

“I hope I can get a seat near the front of the bus. I hate not being able to see what’s ahead.”

“It’ll be dark most of the way. You won’t be missing much.”

“I wish I thought to take another day off.”

“What for?”

“I could have taken the bus that left this morning. Then I could have seen things.”

“Like what?”

“Like what’s between here and Kalona.”

Kim shrugged. “Not much. Farms. Towns. More farms.”

“I’ve never been outside of Cedarwood. I don’t care if it’s an endless pile of used tires, it would be something new and different,” she snapped, exasperated with Kim’s indifference.

“You’ve never been out of Cedarwood?”

“No. Auntie wasn’t much for traveling.”

Kim laughed. “I suppose not.” She softened her tone when she saw the look of consternation on Dorthea’s face. “Hey, I’m sorry. You never really talked about it but I just assumed you must have gone… I don’t know, somewhere.”

“Never.”

“Dammit, Dorthea, if I had known that then I would have insisted you leave this morning. In fact, I would have told you to leave yesterday.”

Dorthea sighed. “It’s okay.”

“Hey, if you’ve got stuff wrapped up by Saturday, you could catch the morning bus back here.” She smiled when Dorthea brightened at the idea. “That way you could see the scenery and you wouldn’t have to rush in to work as soon as you got home,” she added.

“We’ll see,” Dorthea said while she silently pondered the possibility. “Oh, shoot, there’s my bus.” She quickened her steps as a city bus pulled to the curb at the end of the street. The driver was just opening the door when they reached it. She stopped and turned to say goodbye to Kim only to have her almost crash into her.

“Geez,” Kim grumbled as she regained her balance. “Don’t stop so fast.” She gently shoved Dorthea toward the open door. “Go on, git.”

“Don’t you want to say goodbye?”

“I’m riding with you to the depot.”

“You are?”

“Yes. Now, will you get on the bus before he takes off without us?”

Dorthea grinned then spun around and moved up the steps leading into the bus. While the driver punched her pass, she looked around. Sure enough, Kim was standing right behind her holding a bus pass.

#

Dorthea accepted the coins the ticket agent handed her along with her ticket. Keeping a firm grip on the ticket, she walked away from the ticket booth to allow the next person in line to step up to the window. Looking around the depot, which wasn’t much bigger than her apartment, she spotted Kim sitting at the end of a row of chairs set along the far wall. She shoved the coins into her jeans pocket and headed across the room.

“All set?” Kim asked when Dorthea sat down in the empty chair next to her.

“Yes. And he said it shouldn’t be any problem if I want to change to the earlier bus on my trip back.”

“Good.”

“I didn’t expect to see this many people traveling on the bus.”

Kim looked around the room, she silently guessed that approximately forty people were sitting or standing around the busy depot. “I doubt all of these will be taking the bus. Some are probably here to meet passengers on the incoming bus and others are, like me, here to say goodbye.”

“How often have you taken the Greyhound?”

“Only once.”

“Really? By the way you know all about it, I thought you’d ridden it a lot.”

“No. We took trips when I was a kid but we drove. My dad traveled for his job and he’d take us with him when he thought he could sneak us along without his boss finding out. That way, it didn’t cost him anything but what we ate. But when he lost that job, the trips ended. I remember Mom talking to him about taking a trip after that.”

Dorthea saw a look of anger flash across Kim’s face. “What happened?”

“He slugged her and said if she ever brought it up again he’d do a lot more.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me, too,” Kim said regretfully as her shoulders slumped and she slouched down on the chair. “It’s hard to believe it but we actually enjoyed those trips. He wasn’t so ready to lash out when we were traveling; I think he really liked being on the road. Mom wasn’t as uptight and he didn’t drink as much either. It was really hard when he lost that job.”

“He couldn’t find another one like it?”

Kim shrugged. “Maybe. If he had tried, that is. But he usually wasn’t sober long enough to go out on interviews. He blamed mom and me since it was because his boss caught him taking us along that he was fired. But it was really just another excuse for drinking.”

“That must have been hard. How old were you?”

Kim thought for a moment. “Around eight or nine.”

“So, where did you go on your bus trip?” Dorthea asked, hoping the change of subject would lighten Kim’s mood.

Kim brightened and drew herself up straight on the hard chair. “When I was twelve, Mom decided I would spend the summer with my cousins in New Mexico. I’d never met them but I didn’t care because it meant I’d be away from my dad for a whole summer. She put aside a few dollars every week from the money we received from welfare.” She smiled. “I can still remember that day. Mom had met me at school and we walked straight here. She gave me a small paper bag packed with a few snacks and said my aunt had plenty of clothes that would fit me so there was no need to pack any of my own. Now, I know she just didn’t want my dad to figure out what she was planning. She bought my ticket, gave me a slip of paper with my aunt and uncle’s names and address written on it. She told me to stay close to the bus driver if I had to get off the bus at any of the stops and that my aunt would meet me when I got to Alamogordo. That was the damn best summer of my life.”

Dorthea wondered what her father’s reaction had been to his daughter’s absence but her question was drowned out by an announcement on the overhead speakers.

“All passengers for Charles City, Latimer, Eagle Grove, and points west, please proceed to door one. All passengers for New Hampton, Waverly, Waterloo, and points south, please proceed to door four.”

“That’s you,” Kim said as she watched a pair of buses pull up to the wall of glass doors on the east side of the depot. She wrapped her fingers around the grip of Dorthea’s suitcase and stood matching her friend’s movement.

“Well, I guess I’m off then,” Dorthea said, reaching for her suitcase.

Kim handed the bag over then wrapped her arms around Dorthea. “Be safe,” she whispered as she tightened her hold.

Dorthea relaxed into the embrace, realizing she liked the feel of Kim’s arms wrapped around her. “I promise. You be careful getting back home.”

“I will.”

“Last call for departing passengers,” the loudspeaker squawked causing Kim to release her hold.

Looking into Kim’s eyes, Dorthea hesitated for a moment then turned and hurried across the depot to the door where the driver of her bus was checking tickets of the boarding passengers. Kim followed her but at a much slower pace. She found a spot to stand where she wouldn’t be in the way and watched as Dorthea placed her suitcase into one of the luggage compartments under the bus then climbed up the steps and took a place on the seat directly behind the driver. A few minutes later, the driver backed the bus away from the building. Kim wrapped her arms around her body as the bus drove off into the night, her skin still tingling where Dorthea’s cheek had brushed against her own.

#

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Dorthea was relieved to see a hint of the sun on the horizon. Excited by what her visit to Kalona might reveal and also apprehensive about it, she had managed little sleep; her mind too busy to allow her any rest. The night had been long and moonless allowing little to see along the long stretches of dark highway between the occasional towns. Due to the late hours, there was little activity at the depots and she usually chose to remain in her seat, venturing off the bus only when she needed to use the bathroom or stretch her legs. She leaned forward in her seat. “How far to Kalona?” she asked in a low voice so she wouldn’t disturb the sleeping passengers in the nearby seats.

The bus driver turned his head slightly to reply. “Should be there by eight, ma’am,” he said as his eyes remained focused on the highway.

“Thank you.” Dorthea leaned back then squirmed about on the seat in a useless attempt to find a more comfortable position. Giving up, she turned toward the window. The sky was beginning to lighten and she noticed she was able to make out some shapes that she guessed to be farmhouses and the clusters of work buildings surrounding them. She hoped the emerging scenery would keep her mind busy for the next few hours.

#

Kimberly woke to an abnormally still apartment. Rolling onto her side, she gazed out her bedroom door to the dark living room. “Seems quiet this morning,” she murmured, snuggling further under her warm blanket. Her forehead creased into a scowl as she tried to identify what was different. “Maybe it’s just too early for there to be much traffic on the street,” she said aloud. Or, maybe it’s because Dorthea isn’t here, her mind answered. “That’s silly. I’ve been here plenty of times when she hasn’t.” Not like this. “Why is this time so different?” She’ll be gone four days. Four whole days. “So? She’s been gone before.” Has she? Kimberly thought for a few moments trying to recall a time… any time, Dorthea had actually been away. She rolled onto her back to stare at the ceiling. “We’ve lived here thirty years and, in all that time, we’ve never spent more than a workday apart.” What the heck…?

#

The sun had risen above the horizon allowing plenty of light for Dorthea to inspect the gently rolling farmland outside her window. The few towns the bus traveled through were small but she was encouraged by the activity in them indicating the residents were already up and preparing for the day. She hoped the same would be true in Kalona.

Dorthea felt the bus slowing and turned to look out the front windows. She just managed to catch a glimpse of a highway sign before it disappeared behind the bus. “Did that say Kalona?” she asked the driver.

“Yes, ma’am. We’ll be at the depot in a few minutes.”

“Thank you.” Finally, she thought scooting closer to the window. She would have preferred to lean forward and place her arms on the bar separating her from the driver as she would have a better view of the approaching town. But the bus was entering Kalona from the west and she would have to squint against the bright sun rising in the east. So she contented herself with the view out her window.

Almost as soon as the bus turned off the highway the farms gave way to modest houses scattered along the road. Similar in construction to many she had seen in the less populated areas of Rapid Falls, they had the distinct look of dwellings built in the thirties and forties. Nearer to Kalona, the residences grew more numerous and more modern; and a few small businesses began to appear, intermixed with the houses.

The road gave way to city length blocks with side streets running in both directions and Dorthea spotted a sign at the corner of the first intersection the bus rolled through. “1^st Street and E Avenue,” she read. “Not very imaginative.”

“I suppose so,” the driver responded.

Dorthea blanched, only then aware that she had spoken aloud. “Oh, dear,” she stammered, “that… that was quite rude of me.”

“Honest, if you asked me,” a woman sitting in the seat behind her said. “You think they could have come up with something ‘sides A, B, C, and 1, 2, 3 to name their streets.”

Dorthea turned to face the woman, who wasn’t much younger than herself. “Do you live here?”

“No. But I’ve been to a few of the quilt shows they hold here during the year.”

“Is the town very big? I have some business to attend to but I’m afraid I’ll be walking.”

The woman laughed. “No worries there. It’s about ten blocks long and ten blocks wide. At one time, folks around here thought Kalona would be bigger than Chicago—or so they hoped. But the town just never grew. Not sure why… it just never did.”

“We’re coming up to the depot, folks. For those continuing on to Riverside, this’ll be a short stop so I suggest you stay on the bus.”

Dorthea’s stomach rumbled as she turned back around in her seat. “Is there somewhere to get breakfast?” she asked the driver.

“You can get a decent one at the café next to the depot.”

Dorthea nodded then gathered up her jacket and empty purse--she had eaten the hamburger Kim had packed for her several hours before but the cold fries had been too unappetizing and she had dumped them into a waste container at one of the stops during the night. She nervously waited for the bus to arrive at the Kalona depot.

#

Kimberly padded into the kitchen, her bare feet feeling chilled on the floor’s linoleum surface. She debated returning to her bedroom for a pair of slippers but shrugged off the thought. “Probably get used to it in a few minutes,” she muttered as she surveyed the room. She frowned spotting the unplugged coffee pot sitting on the counter. “Guess that explains why it’s so quiet this morning,” she muttered moving to the refrigerator, opening the door and removing the can of coffee grounds. “Dorthea usually does this.” She pulled a paper filter from the cupboard above the pot and placed it into the holder; then she filled the pot with water, spooned grounds into the filter, placed the lid on the pot and plugged it in. With a satisfied look, she padded out of the kitchen.

Intending to enter the bathroom and the waiting tub of hot water, Kimberly ended up in the doorway of Dorthea’s bedroom. The room was neat and tidy, unlike her own which was in a constant state of disarray. Much to Dorthea’s amusement, she thought, smiling. Glancing at the clock on the nightstand beside the bed, she completed a quick mental calculation. “You should be arriving at Kalona about now,” she murmured, slumping against the doorway. “Shoot, if we had a car we could have driven down there in a third of the time.” She sighed. “I sure hope you find what you’re looking for,” she told the empty room before pushing herself off the door frame and walking into the bathroom.

#

Dorthea reached down to make sure her suitcase was still next to her chair then laughed at her over-vigilance. “It’s not like it can get up and walk out on its own,” she murmured. She was seated at a table in a corner of the restaurant and there was little chance of anyone picking up the piece of luggage as they walked past.

“Ma’am?” the café’s solitary waitress, working her way around the tables refilling diners’ coffee cups, had just arrived at Dorthea’s table.

Dorthea smiled. “Oh, nothing. Just yammering to myself.”

“Your breakfast won’t be much longer. Cook got a little backed up with the morning rush.”

“That’s fine.”

“Anything else I can do for you?”

Dorthea looked up at the woman. “As a matter of fact, there is. Could you tell me where I can find the newspaper office?”

“Sure. It’s on 1^st Street just south of E. Avenue. Out front is E, go left to get to 1^st. You can’t miss it.”

“Thank you. I think I know where that is, the bus passed the intersection coming into town.”

“Yes, you would have come right through it.”

“And a motel?”

“There’s one on the way out of town, other side of the city park. But, if I was you, I’d see if Mrs. Peters has a room. She runs a real nice boarding house at 4^th and C. Much better place for a single woman to say. And won’t cost as much the motel.”

“Mrs. Peters?”

“Yes. Tell her I sent you over.”

“Thank you. That’s kind of you.”

The waitress set the pot on the table then leaned close. “Us ladies have to look out for each other,” she said then added with a wink. “My aunt runs it.” Dorthea laughed. “Let me know if you need anything else,” she said straightening and retrieving the pot.

“Just one more thing, where is the hospital?”

“We don’t have one in Kalona.”

“What? Are you sure?” Dorthea sighed. “Of course, you’re sure. You live here and I’m sure you’d know if you had one.”

The waitress chalked up her customer’s nonsensical response to the early hour and turned away from the next table.

“Wait,” Dorthea exclaimed as the waitress took a step in the direction of the kitchen. “Please. I’m sorry, I know you’re busy. But there used to be a hospital here, didn’t there? In the thirties?”

Chuckling, the waitress turned back to face her. “Sorry, but that’s a long time before I was born.”

Dorthea smiled warmly at the young woman who didn’t appear to be older than twenty-five. “Yes, I suppose it is. Do you think someone else might know?”

“Let me ask Chuck, he’s the cook. If there was a hospital he’ll know. He’s knows pretty much everything about Kalona.”

“Thank you.” Dorthea watched the waitress walk behind the counter and speak to a man standing in front of the grill, his hands never stopped as he tended to the meals on the grill. After listening for a few moments, he nodded and replied. The cook handed the waitress a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and flapjacks and she carried it to her table.

“Chuck says if you can wait until he’s done with this rush, he’ll come over,” the waitress said as she set the plate down in front of Dorthea. “Maple syrup and blueberry,” she added pointing to a pair of glass servers next to the salt and pepper shakers.

“Thank you. Thank you, very much. I’m happy to wait just as long as it takes,” Dorthea said but the waitress had already returned to the kitchen to retrieve four more plates loaded down with omelets, hash browns, and biscuits and gravy.

#

Kimberly hurried through the doorway of her office.

“Cutting it a little close this morning, aren’t we?” Marge asked glancing at the clock on the wall.

“I missed the first bus,” Kim said as she settled on the chair in front of her desk. She pulled open the bottom drawer, dropped her purse inside, and slammed the drawer shut. “Thanks for turning on my computer.”

“Didn’t see any reason for the old witch to figure out you weren’t here yet. At least, if your computer was on, I could tell her you went to the bathroom, if she asked.”

“Where is she?”

“She was called into Mr. Jackson’s office.”

“Oh?” Kimberly typed in a series of commands to open the programs she would use during the day. “That’s interesting. She almost never goes into Mr. Jackson’s office.”

“She didn’t look too happy about it,” Marge commented opening the folder she had pulled from her inbox just as Kimberly rushed into the office. “Maybe he’s going to fire her lazy butt.”

“Wishful thinking?”

“I’ve got my fingers and toes crossed.”

“Well, uncross them. Officially, she’s Mr. Gilroy’s assistant. So, I’m pretty sure only he can get rid of her. If he wanted to, that is.” Kim reached for the pile of folders and papers in her inbox. “He seems to like her.”

“Maybe. Or maybe, he’s just waiting for the perfect time to drop the cage over her head and have her carted away.”

Kim laughed. “She’s not that bad.”

“Yes, she is. And you and I both know we do all her work so being rid of her wouldn’t cause us much hardship.”

“If you say so,” Kim said sorting through the pile of work and separating it into two smaller piles based on priority. “But you’re going to be the one to run to the break room every time Mr. Gilroy or Mr. Martin or Mr. Eyler wants a cup of coffee.” She placed the larger of the two piles back into the inbox and opened the first folder in the other pile. “Oh, goodie,” she said, sarcastically, seeing the columns of numbers on the pages inside. “Budgets,” she explained after Marge shot her a curious look. “Guess we better prepare for some late nights in the coming weeks.”

“Means overtime.”

“Hmm. You know, maybe this isn’t such a bad thing,” Kim said thoughtfully.

#

“A hospital? Yes, there was one,” Chuck settled in the chair across the table from Dorthea. He refilled her cup from the pot he had carried from the kitchen then filled a second cup for himself before placing the pot between them. “They shut it down around… Let me think.” He scratched the back of his bald head as he tried to recall the exact date. “Seems to me it was closed the same year Henry closed his furniture store. Same reason too, not enough business. Let’s see… that would make it nineteen fifty-one or -two. After that, nobody found a use for the old building. It finally got to be such an eyesore, the town ordered it torn down ‘bout twenty years ago.”

Dorthea sighed. “Oh, dear.”

“Pardon me for saying so, but you don’t look sick to me,” Chuck observed. “Is there some reason you’re in need of a hospital?”

“Oh, it’s not for me,” Dorthea said. “I mean it is for me but it’s…” She paused a moment. “I was hoping to ask about a patient… A relative.”

Chuck leaned back on his chair and whistled under his breath. “Seems you’ve waited a good long time to inquire about their health.”

“I know this must sound very strange but it’s a rather long story and I have such a short time in town. I appreciate you taking the time to answer my questions but perhaps it would be best if I just go to the newspaper office. I want to look at their archives. I believe I can find the information I need in them.” Dorthea pushed her chair back from the table.

“If you don’t find your answers there, you might want to try the historical museum. They might have the hospital’s records there. I’m not real sure what happened to them when they packed the place up.”

“Oh? And where would I find the museum?”

“On D, this side of 9^th Street.”

Dorthea stood then bent over to pick up her suitcase. Realizing she had yet to settle the bill for her breakfast, she set her suitcase on the chair to pull the few bills from her jeans pocket. “Do I pay you?” she asked Chuck.

Chuck laughed and shook his head. “Angie doesn’t let me near the register. Says it takes her too long to balance the drawer after I’ve been in it. She’ll take care of you.”

Dorthea nodded. Keeping out enough to cover her breakfast and a tip, she shoved the rest of her money back into her pocket. When Chuck returned to the kitchen, she picked up her suitcase and carried it to the cash register where the waitress was waiting.

#

The door to the vice president’s office opened. “I will do whatever is necessary, Mr. Jackson,” Kapin said hurriedly before pushing the door shut. Ignoring the looks of surprise on Kimberly’s and Marge’s faces, she scurried between their desks on her way across the room.

Bemusedly, Marge watched the harried woman disappear down the hallway outside their office. “Wonder what he said to light her hair on fire?”

“Hard to say,” Kim answered, indifferently.

“Aren’t you, at all, interested in what Mr. Jackson must have told her to send her running out of his office like that?”

“Not really. I’m more concerned in getting through this pile by quitting time tomorrow.”

“Oh? Plans for the weekend?”

“Yes. I promised Dorthea I’d clean the apartment before she got back.”

“Back? Did she go somewhere?”

“She had business in Kalona.”

Marge laughed. “Kalona? No one has business in Kalona.” She thought for a moment then asked, “Hey, is her company opening a new plant down there?”

“Personal business.”

“Oh.” Marge returned to her work. “Cleaning the apartment, huh?” she asked, not taking her eyes off her screen.

“Yes.”

“Thought you hated housework.”

“I do.”

“So, why do it?”

“Because I told her I would.”

“Seems like an odd thing for you to do.”

Kimberly considered the comment and the truth behind it. “It does, doesn’t it?”

#

CHAPTER TWELVE

 Carrying her suitcase, Dorthea left the café and turned left to walk west on E Avenue. She stopped at the corner of the first intersection to check for approaching cars. Seeing the street free of any movement except for a young boy on a bicycle, she crossed and continued to the next intersection where she turned to walk south on 4^th Street to the rooming house.

A four foot high rock wall bordered the corner lot on C Avenue. Set into the top of the wall was an ornate wrought iron fence of identical height. Dorthea paused to appreciate the fence and its unusual design of interlocking ivy vines wrapped around blossoms of sunflowers.

“It’s something, isn’t it?”

Dorthea looked up to see a woman standing on the opposite side of the fence watching her. “It’s very unique.”

“One-of-a-kind; shipped out here from the east coast before the turn of the century.”

“Goodness. That must have been expensive.”

“I’m sure it was.” The woman chuckled. “I’m just thankful I wasn’t the one paying that bill. You must be the lady from the café. Angie gave me a call,” she explained when Dorthea looked at her quizzically. “And you’re carrying a suitcase.”

“She’s a very nice girl.”

The woman laughed. “She has her good days.”

“I’m Dorthea.”

“Well, come on in. No sense standing out on the street,” the woman said, gesturing toward an archway setting off the gate at the corner of the property. Moving along the sidewalk, Dorthea paralleled the rock wall until she reached to the gate. Unlatching it, she stepped through the opening and climbed a set of stone steps that rose up to the grassy yard which was on an equal level with the top of the wall. “Welcome. I’m Lois Peters,” she said when Dorthea reached the top of the steps. “Let’s get you settled.” Leading the way, she walked along a stone walkway to the steps of the porch.

“It’s a beautiful house,” Dorthea commented of the three-story Victorian painted in pale blue with bright yellow trim. “When was it built?” she asked stepping up onto the wide, covered porch that spread out from both sides of a pair of engraved glass doors.

“1889. A local cattle breeder, Nathan Newberry, built it for his English bride.” Lois pulled open one of the doors and held it for Dorthea to enter the house. “There wasn’t much here at the time except the railhead and lots of dirt and dust. It’s said that when Nathan’s bride found out the town was named for another rancher’s prized sire and she told him that she would never set foot in such an awful place unless he built her a proper house to live in. And had the town renamed. Nathan spent a year and most of his fortune building the house but, sadly, his fiancée never saw it or the town; which, by the way, never did receive a more fitting name.” Lois pointed to a staircase at the side of the sitting room. “You can set your suitcase down over there while we get you registered.”

“What happened?”

“His fiancée contracted cholera on the voyage from England and died at sea. He spent the rest of his life living here alone and was rarely seen outside the property.”

“That’s so sad.”

“Yes, but unfortunately it wasn’t all that uncommon. After Nathan died, the house passed through several owners until my father purchased it. I inherited it from him and turned it into the rooming house. It needed a lot of work but I think it was worth it.”

“Oh, indeed it was.” Dorthea readily agreed as she glanced around the sitting room comfortably furnished with period pieces. “Are these original?” she asked while lightly running her fingers along the back of a settee.

“I’m afraid not. By the time Dad bought the place the original furniture was long gone or too badly damaged to use.”

“You’ve done a wonderful job replacing it with these pieces.”

Lois smiled at the compliment then sat in front of a roll-top desk in the corner of the room and slid the tambour open. “I use the need to furnish the house in authentic pieces as a convenient excuse to visit every second-hand and antique store in the state. Here we are,” she said pulling a sheet of paper from one of the many cubicles above the desk’s writing surface. She retrieved a pen from another cubicle and held it up. “I just need some information.”

“Of course,” Dorthea said walking across the room to the desk. A quick glance at the paper answered her unasked question when she saw Lois had already written in the nightly cost of a room. She quickly filled in the requested information and signed the paper. “Would you like me to pay now?”

“If you don’t mind. Will you be staying longer than tonight?”

“I think two nights but I’m really not sure.” Dorthea pulled the folded bills out of her pocket and handed Lois enough to cover one night’s stay.

“Not a problem. Just let me know tomorrow morning what you’ve decided.”

“I’ll do that,” Dorothy agreed as she accepted her change.

Lois made a notation on the paper then closed the tambour and stood, slipping Dorthea’s payment into a pocket. “Let me take you up to your room. Things are pretty quiet this time of the year so you won’t have to fight other guests over the bathroom. It’s the door at the end of the hall; your room is right next door. It has the best view of all of them. Breakfast and supper come with the room,” she explained as she started up the stairs. “Nothing fancy but it’ll save you from having to walk to the café.”

Dorthea reclaimed her suitcase then followed Lois up the narrow flight of carpeted steps.

#

After freshening up, Dorthea left the rooming house to find the newspaper office. She quickly found herself standing in front of a one-story building with faded gray stucco walls and few windows. Bordering one side of the substantial rectangular structure was a gravel drive that provided access to a parking lot where a half dozen delivery trucks were parked. Painted on the sides of the trucks and on the uninviting plain wooden door at the front of the building was Kalona News. She pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The room Dorthea entered was small, contrasting with the outside appearance of the building. Six feet from the door, a waist high counter stretched the width of the room. To the left, two chairs separated by a small table holding a lamp and a copy of the morning issue of the paper filled one side of the cramped foyer while the opposite side was bare of any furnishings but stacked high with boxes of various sizes. In the space behind the counter, two desks sat facing one another and a row of file cabinets, of different designs and sizes, lined the far wall. A space, just large enough for the door it revealed, broke the otherwise soled wall of metal. Piled around the desks were more boxes and stacks of loose papers.

A young man, Dorthea guessed to be not long out of high school, sat at one of the desks engaged in a fervent phone conversation. When she stepped up to the counter, he glanced in her direction, smiled, and held up his index figure. She smiled back and nodded, acknowledging his greeting and silent request for her patience. She leaned against the counter to wait for him to finish his conversation.

“Sorry, ma’am, one of our advertisers,” the man apologized as he placed the receiver back on its cradle. Then he stood and approached the counter. “I’m Tad. And how can I help you?”

“I have a rather strange request,” Dorthea said nervously. She paused when the rear door opened and an older man entered the office. A rush of air fouled by stale ink and paper dust rushed into the office accompanied by the loud clanking of machinery at work.

“You were saying?” Tad prompted Dorthea after the elderly man closed the door shutting out the noise and odor.

“I’m trying to find information about something that happened here a very long time ago,” Dorthea answered while her eyes followed the older man as he moved to one of the file cabinets and pulled open a drawer. “I was hoping that I might find it in your archives.”

“I’m intrigued. How long ago?”

“1938.”

“Whoo,” Tad exclaimed, blowing out a stream of air. “That is a long time ago. What was the event?”

“A tornado.”

“We have a lot of those around here.”

The sound of the file drawer being slammed shut made both Dorthea and Tad jump. “Told you before,” the elderly man addressed Tad, “you should have spent more time on your history lessons.” He tossed a folder onto the desk opposite Tad’s as he walked past it to the counter. “1938, you say. It did most of its damage in Cedarwood, not Kalona,” he said to Dorthea. “Why are you asking about it here?”

“I believe that the injured were brought to Kalona.”

“That’s true. Kalona was the closest hospital back then.”

“And that a list of the injured was published in your paper.”

“Most likely. That was the best way to get the information to the families back then. At least, for those the hospital identified. Let’s sit,” the older man said. “My legs are too old to be standing for this long.” He lifted a section of counter top then opened a half door. “Tad, you can get back to those collection calls,” he told the younger man as he moved through the concealed opening. “These chairs aren’t too uncomfortable,” he told Dorthea then beckoned her to sit on one of them. “I’m Harvey.”

Dorthea held out a hand. “Dorthea.”

“My mother was a nurse at the hospital back in thirty-eight. I was sixteen but I still remember the stories she told of that day. So much chaos. The injured kept coming, brought in anyway someone could get them here. The docs were quickly overwhelmed but they did what they could to help them.”

“You said that all of the victims weren’t identified. Why?”

“Some walked out once they were patched up. They were too concerned about missing loved ones to stick around and fill out paperwork. Others knew they couldn’t pay so they snuck out or their relatives snuck them out when everyone was too busy to notice. Many were too bad off to give their names and died without anyone laying claim to them. Things weren’t as organized back then as they are now.”

“Do you remember any of the names?”

“Not off the top of my head; I was just a kid more interested in all the commotion and such. Except for a few buildings at the south end of town and the bridge over the river, the tornado skipped right over Kalona. Cedartown…” Harvey shook his head slowly as memories flooded back. “Folks out there took a real beating. Some of them yours?”

“I don’t know. I think… I’d really like to see a list of the victims, if there is one.”

“If there was, it’ll be in the archives. We can take a look.”

“I’d really appreciate that.”

“Mind me asking why you’re interested?”

“I, um… I think I may have been one of those victims.”

Harvey studied Dorthea for several minutes. “You couldn’t have been very old…”

“I was four.”

Harvey nodded, as if to say seems about right. “We’ll have to walk out back, ran out of room to store the old issues in here. Let me grab the key.”

#

After retrieving a ring of keys from his desk drawer, Harvey led Dorthea out the door at the front of the building. Then they walked around the corner of the building and down the gravel drive, the noise from the working machinery inside barely audible through the building’s thick walls. They continued past the parked trucks to a newer concrete block structure in the back corner of the lot.

Harvey walked up to the steel door and slipped a key into its lock. “Fireproof,” he explained to Dorthea as he swung the heavy door open. “We have some of the more recent years on microfiche but for what you’re looking for, it’s the old papers themselves.”

Dorthea cautiously approached the doorway, she could see little inside the windowless building. She hesitated when Harvey disappeared into the blackness. A moment later the interior was illuminated by bright overhead lights. Relieved, she followed him inside.

“Unless Tad’s been out here, the years should be in chronological order.” Harvey was saying. “The nineteen thirties are back here. Hey, you still interested?”

Dorthea had paused just inside the door. She was surprised to see the neat rows of cabinets that occupied the building. Each cabinet was approximated four feet wide. The front side of each cabinet was lined with sliding doors that could be slid in front or behind the ones on either side. Harvey was standing at the end of one row, frowning at her. “Yes. I’m sorry,” she said as she hurried toward him. “I wasn’t expecting—”

“It to be so neat in here?” Harvey finished for her. “I don’t expect you would after seeing the office.” He chuckled. “Guess we just haven’t had the time to neaten it up over the years. Built this place a few years ago; made sure we did it up right.” Dorthea smiled and nodded. “Here’s 1938,” he said, sliding open a section of door. “Let’s see, that happened in… what, April? May?”

“May.”

Inside the cabinets were shelves three inches deep. At the front of each shelf, a month and a span of several days was indicated in black press-on numerals. Harvey pulled on the shelf denoting May; it noiselessly rolled open to reveal issues of the newspaper laid out flat, one on top of the next. “This’ll be the first few days of May,” he said as he carefully lifted the spine of the first paper. “No point wasting time on the ones without any mention in the headlines,” he explained as he continued down through the issues, his eyes scanning the first page of each before discounting it. He pushed the drawer closed then pulled open the one below it. “Here we go,” he exclaimed after almost reaching the bottom of the papers in the drawer. He carefully pulled the issue free then spread it out on top of the cabinet.

Dorthea read the blaring headlines. “Tornado obliterates Cedarwood. Kalona hospital overwhelmed.” She pressed against the cabinet to get a better view of the old print. “Entire blocks of homes destroyed. Rescuers find few survivors to save in some neighborhoods.”

“Didn’t leave much to the imagination back then,” Harvey commented as he pulled open the drawer holding the next grouping of issues.

Dorthea carefully flipped through the pages, her eyes scanning for any mention of survivors.

#

Kimberly re-checked the bottom row of numbers before hitting the print button. After spending almost the entire day updating the budget spreadsheets, she wanted to make sure she hadn’t made any mistakes. Hearing the printer engage, she leaned back in her chair, stretching her back. “I really do hate budget time,” she said to the empty room then turned to look out the office door. “I wonder what’s taking Marge so long to get back.” Several minutes earlier, her co-worker had volunteered to take their empty coffee cups to the break room and refill them. She quickly turned back around when she heard a door click open. She smiled seeing her boss emerge from his adjoining office.

“Kimberly, I don’t suppose you have the first draft of the budgets yet.”

She nodded. “Actually, Mr. Jackson, they’re printing now.” Kim rose from her chair and moved to the printer, her boss following her.

“Really? That’s great. I just got a call from accounting. They’re already complaining about some of my proposed changes. They want a meeting to discuss things and said we could use my pencil version if we had to. But, I told them you probably had the changes already typed.”

Kim pulled the pages off the printer.

“Great job,” Jackson said as he took them from her hand. “As usual.”

“Marge helped out.”

“Of course. Pass on my thanks to her, too.” Jackson said then turned to walk out into the hallway. He abruptly stopped then stepped back into the office. “And Mrs. Kapin?”

Already focused on another project, Kim looked up questioningly thinking she hadn’t heard the full question. “I’m sorry.”

“Mrs. Kapin… how much did she help?”

“Um… well… She’s been busy—”

“We’ve barely seen her since this morning,” Marge said slipping into the office carrying two coffee cups, on top of each balanced a plate holding a sandwich and some chips. She carried the cups to Kim’s desk and waited to be relieved of half her burden. “Except to come in here demanding to see how much we had completed.”

Jackson studied Marge for a moment then nodded before leaving the office without further comment.

“You shouldn’t have said that,” Kim scolded.

“Why not? It’s true.”

“It’s not our place to tattle on her.”

“I wasn’t tattling. He asked. I answered. Now eat your lunch; something you should have done a good hour ago.”

Kim sighed. “You’re right… about this, anyway,” she said, holding up the sandwich. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was until you walked in with these. I wondered what was taking you so long.”

“There were some platters of lunch meats and cheese slices in the break room. Leftovers from some department’s lunch, I guess. I decided we deserved a free lunch as much as they did.”

“Thanks,” Kim mumbled around a bite of roast beef sandwich. “I’m supposed to pass on Mr. Jackson’s thanks to you, also,” she added after swallowing.

“For?”

“Getting the budgets done so quickly. He’s on his way to accounting to go over some of his changes.”

Marge raised her coffee cup and smiled. “Glad to be of service.” She took a sip then said, “I’m surprised he noticed.”

“Well, I couldn’t have done it without you and I told him so.”

“Too bad you couldn’t have been as forthcoming when he asked about Kapin.”

Popping the last bite of sandwich into her mouth, Kim pulled a folder from her inbox. “Let’s see how much of this pile I can get through before five.”

“Subject closed?”

“Yes.”

#

“Here’s another list,” Harvey said spreading open another day’s issue. “Not much different from the last few.”

Placing her finger just above the surface of the fragile page, Dorthea scanned through the list of names. “I don’t see it here.”

“Would have been eight days after the twister hit. Doubt there were many, if any, survivors left to be rescued by then. Paper was probably just re-running the same list, giving folks a chance to see the names.”

Dorthea frowned. “I was so hoping to find mine there. Or, one I recognized.”

Harvey folded up the paper and placed it back in drawer. He gathered up a couple of the others they had spread on top of the cabinets. As he placed one of the papers away, his eyes fell on a story at the bottom of the front page. “Lots of sad stories from that day but I doubt many were too upset by this one,” he said.

“Oh?”

Harvey tapped the paper. “The tornado blew a car off the bridge. When they finally managed to pull it out of the river, they found Rocks inside.”

“Rocks?”

“Rocks Hampton. Owned a café in town but made most of his money being a loan shark. He had big plans, wanted to be a mobster like the boys in Chicago. But he was never more than small potatoes. Tornado did a lot of folks around here a favor by dumping him in the river. Only way they managed to survive the next few years was by not having to pay Rocks back.”

Dorthea was reading the article about the demolished car being pulled from the river. A comment at the end of the article caught her attention. “What about this?” she asked, pointing at the page. “Rocks demise and the mystery of the missing Bingham girl is all most talk about when it comes to the tornado.”

“Oh, well… I hadn’t thought about her in years.”

Dorthea was excitedly flipping through the pages. “Is there anything else about her?”

“Might be. Hang on there,” Harvey reached for Dorthea’s hands to stop her. “We don’t want to be tearing any of these pages.

“Please, it’s important.”

“I can see that. Give me a minute to think.” Harvey scratched the back of his ear as he searched his memory. “Seems to me the paper ran a few stories about her…” He slide open a door. “Would have been the day after the tornado, if I remember right.” He opened a drawer and pulled out one of the papers they had already looked at. “Don’t know why I didn’t notice it first time we had this one out,” he said as he laid the paper on top of the cabinet. Slowly, he flipped through the pages. He started to turn a page then stopped and pointed to a small article at the bottom of the page. “Oops, almost missed it again.”

Dorthea read the article’s headline. “Cedarwood survivor disappears from hospital.” Her hands began to shake nervously as she continued reading. “Little Esther Bingham, having survived being buried in the storm cellar of her family’s home, has mysteriously disappeared from the Kalona Hospital. Officials are at a loss how the four year old, after being treated for her injuries, was allowed to leave before her father arrived to claim her.” She looked at Harvey. “Is that all?”

Harvey had pulled another paper from a drawer. “Follow up article a few days later,” he said pointing to the second paper. “Doesn’t give much more information except that the girl’s father was still looking for her. Thought your name was Sanborn? Girl’s name was Bingham.”

“Names can be changed,” Dorthea said as she scribbled on a notepad she had pulled from her purse. “It says the girl was treated for injuries, do you know what they were?”

Harvey shook his head. “You might find something over at the historical museum. They have all the hospital’s old records.”

“Do you know what happened to Mr. Bingham?”

Again, Harvey shook his head.

Dorthea paused before asking her next question, not being sure she wanted to know the answer. “Mr. Bingham’s wife… did she survive?”

Harvey reached for a paper already spread out on top of the cabinet. “This was one of the last lists of victims the paper ran,” he said pulling the paper close. He ran his finger down a list of names. “Missing, Carol Bingham, Cedarwood,” he read aloud.

#

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

 Dorthea struggled to read the page of notes. After thanking Harvey for his assistance and leaving the newspaper office, she had returned to the boarding house and was sitting on the settee in the sitting room trying to make sense of the scribbles on her notepad. “Bingham,” she whispered underlining the name in her notes. She leaned back, tapping the pen against her chin and trying to recall if she had ever heard the name before. “Bingham,” she repeated.

“Bingham?” Lois asked as she carried a tray out of the kitchen.

“Do you know the name?” Dorthea asked hopefully.

Lois set the tray down on the table between the settee and a pair of thickly padded Victorian style chairs. “Can’t think of any Binghams around here. Use to be a family of Bingfords. Had a farm west of town but they sold out years ago and moved down south somewhere. Coffee?”

“Oh, I’d love a cup.”

Lois picked up the silver coffee pot from the tray and poured the steaming liquid into a pair of china cups. She handed one of the cups to Dorthea. “By the looks of those notes, I’d say you had some luck at the newspaper office.”

“Some. But, unfortunately, not what I was hoping for.”

“I’m sorry.”

Dorthea sighed. “So am I. Chuck, at the café, made mention of an historical museum. Maybe they will have the old hospital records.”

“The hospital? Why on earth are you interested in those,” Lois blurted out without thinking. “I apologize. Your business is none of mine,” Lois contritely told her guest who had displayed a reluctance to discuss her reasons for visiting Kalona.

“Oh, goodness. You have no need to apologize.”

“Well, I feel I do. You have no obligation to tell me of your business and I have no business asking.”

“My business is personal but it’s not as if it’s a secret. It’s just… well… it’s a bit embarrassing, to be honest.” Dorthea took a sip of coffee and swallowed before continuing. “You see, I’m trying to find out who I am.”

“Oh?”

Dorthea laughed nervously. “That must have sounded very strange. Let me try again. I was raised by a woman who claims to be my aunt. Over the years, I have come to question the truth of that claim.”

“How awful for you? You don’t think you were… kidnapped?!”

“I don’t know what to think.”

“So, why Kalona?”

“Recently, I read a story about the tornado that struck Cedarwood in the 1938. It told of a young girl who was rescued from the rubble of her house and brought to Kalona’s hospital. The girl mysteriously disappeared before her family arrived.”

“And you think you may be her?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“The girl suffered an injury. When she was found, a piece of wood was stuck through her ankle. It would have left a noticeable scar. I have such a scar but have no memory of how I got it.”

“Your aunt—,”

“Says I had it when I was given to her to raise.”

“By whom?”

“She refuses to say.”

Lois settled back on her chair absorbing what she had just been told. “That must be terrible for you,” she said after a few moments.

Dorthea nodded. “The magazine article did not mention the girl’s name since she disappeared before anyone could ask it, I guess. But Harvey found a story in the paper that a Paul Bingham was looking for his daughter, Esther, who had disappeared from the hospital.”

“Do you remember being called Esther?”

“No.”

“What about her mother?”

“One of the last lists of victims mentioned a Carol Bingham who was still missing.”

“Hmm.” Lois bent forward to refill their coffee cups. “Have you thought of visiting the cemetery? There’s a section there for some of the victims of that tornado, mostly people who died at the hospital. Unfortunately, many were buried in a mass grave. The tornado didn’t leave a lot for kinfolk to recognize. So many died, it was a sad time around here.”

“You can’t be old enough to remember that time.”

Lois laughed. “Thank you. I’m not. But anyone who’s buried a loved one in the Sharon Hill cemetery knows about the monument to the Cedarwood tornado victims. There are some individual graves, too. You might recognize a name of one of those stones.”

“That’s a good idea. How do I find… did you say Sharon Hill?”

“Yes. It’s on J at the end of 4^th. You can’t miss it.”

#

“Quitting time, girl friend,” Marge said ejecting ejected a floppy disk from her computer. She then stood and walked to Kim’s desk where she picked up a second disk.

Kimberly was tidying up the papers and folders on her desk. “Hopefully, we can get out of here before Mr. Jackson comes back with more adjustments,” she said, not noticing her boss was walking into the office.

“I heard that.”

Kimberly blanched. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you—”

Jackson laughed. “It’s okay,” he assured his assistance. “If I had worked as hard as you have today, I’d want to get out of here, too.”

“I can stay—”

“No. Go on and leave. I have to take another look at some of these spreadsheets,” he held up a thick folder, “before I make any decision on changes. Are those for me?” he asked Marge of the floppy disks she held.

“Yes. I was going to put them on your desk.”

Jackson plunked the disks from her grasp and added them to the papers he carried. “I’ll save you the trouble. Now, go home.”

“Thank you, Mr. Jackson.”

“Have a good night, Kimberly. And you, too, Marge. I appreciate all you’ve both accomplished today. It’ll sure make my revisions easier having all of this on disk.” He waited for the women to leave then walked to Mrs. Kapin’s desk. The executive assistant’s computer was running but the out box on the corner of her desk was empty. He frowned and turned for his office.

“Oh, Mr. Jackson, did you need something?” He spun around to find the woman had mysteriously materialized. “I believe I just saw Kimberly and Marge leave. I’m sure I can stop them.”

“No. I have no need for them tonight. In fact, I just sent them home.”

“Oh? Um… then perhaps… I can…”

Jackson smiled sardonically. “No. You may leave as well.”

“I’ll just check with Mr. Gilroy.”

“Yes. You do that,” Jackson said as he walked into his office.

#

Dorthea knew she had found the cemetery when she spotted the flamboyant wrought iron gate before she even reached the end of 4^th Street. It was late and the sky was beginning to darken in the east as she crossed J Avenue.

No fence surrounded the sacred ground, only the gate announced the entry for visitors. The cemetery’s grass covered ground was scarred by two pronounced ruts beginning at the edge of J Avenue and continuing under the gate’s center arch that had Sharon Hill Cemetery blazoned across it in block letters. On either side of the arched section were two lower slanted arcs and beneath those were two wire pedestrian gates firmly latched shut.

Dorthea chose to walk under the main arch rather than unlatch one of the side gates. The lawn had recently been mowed and the bouquet of freshly cut grass still hung in the air. She walked in one of the ruts worn deep into the hard ground by the wheels of hundreds of funeral processions. The parallel ruts led to a gravel drive that split the cemetery in half down the middle of the long rectangular shaped graveyard. Rows of neatly placed grave stones spread out from the drive on the flat ground. No trees or bushes had been planted to provide shade over the graves and she idly wondered if that bothered the ground’s occupants.

A granite obelisk stood conspicuously in the rear corner of the cemetery, its height towering over the rest of the stone monuments. As Dorthea headed for the obelisk, she quickened her steps, hoping she hadn’t mis-timed her visit and the day wouldn’t fade before she accomplished her mission.

#

Kimberly sat at the kitchen table. A peanut butter sandwich was on the plate in front of her and a glass of milk was beside it. Both untouched. The television was turned on in the living room but she paid little attention to it. After arriving home, the apartment had seemed painfully quiet and she had switched on the television to break the unnerving silence. She picked up the sandwich and took a bite. After swallowing, she washed down the thick spread with a mouthful of milk. “Damn, it’s going to be a long weekend,” she bemoaned before taking a second bite.

#

Dorthea strained to read the names on the gravestones that surrounded the obelisk. Disappointed at finding the sides of the monument engraved with only a dedication to the unknown victims of the tornado, she had turned her attention to the dozen or so individual monuments. Having made her way through most of them, she had yet to find the name Bingham or any name that sounded faintly familiar to her.

“Darn it,” Dorthea muttered then sighed after reading the last of the stones. “Now what do I do?” she asked aloud. Not much a grave stone would be able to tell you anyway, she heard Kim’s voice deep in her brain. “No, I suppose not.” Disappointed, she turned to walk back across the graveyard to the street.

Hey, it’s only your first day. You aren’t giving up already, are you?

“No.”

Go back and eat something then get some sleep. Tomorrow go to the museum. Who knows? You might get lucky and find an old geezer there who can provide your answers.

“Let’s hope,” she responded to the imagined voice then laughed at herself for doing so. “If not, I guess I go to Cedarwood and see if any old geezers are still around there.”

That’s the spirit.

Dorthea had reached the gate and was passing under it when she again answered the voice, “I wish you were here, Kim.”

#

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

 The alarm woke Kimberly at six. She groaned then threw her blankets off to the side and sat up. Only then did she reach for the offending noise maker and quiet it. “No time to dawdle. I made a promise and I plan to keep it.” She pushed up off the mattress then padded out of her bedroom. After a quick stop in the bathroom to splash cold water on her face, she went to the kitchen and prepared a breakfast of cereal, milk, and coffee. Then it was back to her bedroom to dress in a pair of shorts and old t-shirt.

Pulling the door of the utility closet open, she stood in front of the array of tools Dorthea employed in keeping their apartment clean. She reached for the vacuum and feather duster. “Can’t be that hard,” she muttered as she turned around to face the waiting apartment.

#

Not wanting Lois to go to the trouble of cooking a full breakfast for her single guest, Dorthea had asked for only a bowl of fresh fruit, a couple slices of sourdough toast, and coffee. After finishing her meal, she returned to her room for her notepad and then set off to find Kalona’s historical museum. Lois had told her that it opened for visitors at nine and Dorthea planned to be waiting when the doors were unlocked.

Dorthea was surprised to find the historical museum not a single building but a collection of buildings that created a nineteenth century village. She headed first to the visitor center, a building of modern construction near the front of the village. The building’s door was propped open and she walked through the opening into a large room with numerous display cases and free-standing artifacts. Though the room was crowded with exhibits of the town’s history, it was neatly arranged and welcoming.

“Good morning.”

Dorthea looked around for the source of the cheery greeting. “Good morning,” she replied, spotting an elderly woman cleaning a glass display case at the side of the room.

“We don’t get many visitors this early,” the woman said as she continued with her task. “Fee is three dollars, you can just drop it into the jar on the desk.”

“Oh… of course,” Dorthea said, reaching into her pocket for the requested amount.

“And be sure to sign our guest book. We like to keep track of where our visitors come from. Go ahead and look around. My name’s Gwen. Give a shout if you have any questions. Don’t be shy. I like to talk to folks, it helps the hours pass.”

“Thank you,” Dorthea said, smiling. “Actually, when you have a moment, I do have some questions.”

Gwen turned away from the glass panel she had been cleaning. “Spendid,” she said walking toward the old oak office desk beside the front door that served as a work area for the volunteers, like herself, who manned the museum during the day. “Did you sign the book?”

“Yes.”

Gwen set the can of glass cleaner on the desk then carefully folded the cloth she had been using and placed it under the can. She leaned over to read Dorthea’s entry in the registry. “Rapid Falls? Not much excitement in that.” She straightened back up. “I much rather have visitors from far away. Just last month, we had a couple from Switzerland stop by. Switzerland. Can you imagine coming all the way from Switzerland to see our museum.”

“Well, no, I can’t—”

“Such a nice couple, they were, too. They looked at every exhibit and even walked through all the other buildings. So interested, they were. Those are the kind of folks that make my day.”

Dorthea smiled nervously, not knowing what kind of response the woman expected.

Gwen dropped into the chair behind the desk. “What brings you all the way from Rapid Falls?”

“I, ah… Well, I’m hoping to find information on the 1938 tornado.”

“Thirty-eight,” Gwen said after a moment. “Seems you’d do better asking in Cedarwood. Tornado bounced right over Kalona and hit there.”

“Yes, I know. But what I’m looking for is information on the victims that were brought to Kalona’s hospital. Harvey, at the newspaper office, thought the old records might be stored here.”

“Harvey thought that, did he?” Gwen muttered. “Old fool likes to send people here if they can’t find something in the paper’s archives.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to waste your time,” Dorthea bristled.

“Don’t go getting riled up. I said Harvey was an old fool, didn’t say he was wrong.”

“So you do have the records?” Dorthea asked expectantly.

“We have some.”

“Some?”

“When the decision was made to close the hospital, most of the records were moved to a sister hospital in Iowa City. We thought they had cleaned the place out. Wasn’t until the city condemned the building that anyone bothered to go in and see what, if anything, was left. When they did, they found all kinds of files in some old cabinets and boxes in the basement. Unfortunately, most of them had to be burned since the basement had filled with rainwater over the years and soaked the boxes. But we did manage to salvage what was in the cabinet drawers above the water level. What exactly are you looking for?”

Groaning inwardly, Dorthea repeated the story that sounded odd even to her own ears. “I would like to know more about that young girl. She couldn’t have been more than four or five, at the time.”

“Goodness, I haven’t thought… What do you know about Esther?” Gwen suddenly demanded then waited impatiently for Dorthea to continue.

“I’m sorry… I’m not sure… I mean, I don’t really know anything. I…” Dorthea stammered before stopping to gather her thoughts. She drew in a long calming breath and slowly released it before addressing Gwen. “Is there someplace we can sit?” she asked, hoping that Gwen’s sudden change in demeanor meant she might finally have met someone who could provide answers to her questions.

Gwen nodded then stood and led Dorthea to the far end of the room where a pair of benches had been placed for visitors to rest. She sat on one of the benches and waited for Dorthea to take a seat on the other.

“Did you know Esther,” Dorthea asked eagerly.

Gwen sighed. “I haven’t thought of her in years. No, I never knew the girl. But her father—”

“Paul?”

Gwen nodded. “He owned the store next to my father’s. He was such a nice man. He always had a piece of penny candy for me. He changed after the tornado. I don’t think he ever recovered after losing his family.”

“His wife?”

“She was never found. The best anyone could say is she must have been sucked into the tornado. Probably better she wasn’t found after that. But I think it was what happened to Esther that ruined him.”

“What happened? Do you know?”

“I don’t think anyone but the men who took her can answer that.”

“Do you know who they were?”

Gwen shook her head. “I was only seven at the time and my mother made me stay at home because she didn’t want me disappearing too. But my friend Gale’s older sister saw them. Helen was a Candy Stripper… I don’t know if they still call them that now-a-days but a volunteer.” Dorthea nodded her understanding. “She was at the hospital that day and had been assigned to get the names of patients who didn’t need immediate attention; the nurses were treating them while the doctors focused on the most seriously injured. She said two men had come to the hospital and that one had hung back while the other forced his way to the front of the hospital lobby where a desk had been set up to provide information on the injured already treated. Helen had noticed the men because, unlike most everyone else, they wore business suits. She said one looked neat and clean but the other was rumpled looking.”

“Who were they?”

“She didn’t know the rumbled looking man who asked for information on a little girl but she thought the other one looked like Sonny.”

“Sonny?”

“Sonny Furston. A no good. Made his living beating up people for Rocks.”

“Rocks Hampton? Harvey said he died in the tornado.”

“That’s right. Tornado picked his car up and dumped it in the river. It took weeks before it was pulled it out. It was a real mess, all crumbled up with Rocks crushed inside. Just as well, if you ask me. He thought himself a gangster like the real ones in Chicago at the time. Sonny was his… What is it the movies call them? Oh, yes, his enforcer.”

“Did Helen tell the police she had seen Sonny?”

“Oh, yes. It was all anyone around here talked about for months. But no one could figure out why Rocks would have Sonny take Esther.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Sonny never did anything unless Rocks told him to.”

“What did Paul say?”

Gwen stretched her back. “To tell you the truth, it was peculiar, even to me, how he would go silent whenever anyone brought up the possibility.”

“And the police couldn’t question Rocks since he died in the tornado. But, what about Sonny?”

“He just disappeared. No one saw him after that day. And since no one else at the hospital remembered seeing him, the police just figured Helen was mistaken and Sonny was just another victim of the tornado.”

“What if he wasn’t?” Dorthea cried out in frustration. “He could have told them what happened to Esther.”

Gwen shrugged. “People had to go on with their lives. They had their own families to worry about. What was one missing girl to them when so many others were missing or dead? There were many who thought Paul knew more than he was saying so why should they care if he didn’t. It was a bad time around here.”

“And Paul? What happened to him? Does he still live in Cedarwood?”

Gwen shook her head. “After the tornado, he put a cot up in the back of his store and slept there. He kept hoping Esther and his wife would turn up. I didn’t think he’d ever give up. But he did. One day, he put a For Sale sign on his store and handed the keys to my father. He said he was going to go someplace where their memories wouldn’t haunt him.”

“Where could he go?”

“California. Los Angeles, I think. My father received a postcard from Paul saying to keep whatever he got for the store.” Gwen laughed. “Dad said the store was more debt than profit. He never did find a buyer for it so he just locked the doors. I can’t remember that we ever heard from Paul again.” Gwen sat quietly for a moment. “Why are you so interested in Esther?”

“Do you know the injury she suffered?”

“Yes. I heard my father talking to my mother one day. He said there was no way Esther could have just walked away from the hospital like some suggested. Not with what happened to her ankle.”

Dorthea pulled up the leg of her jeans. She stared at the scarred skin on both sides of her ankle looking up only after hearing a loud gasp escape from Gwen.

“You?” Gwen whispered. “You’re Esther?”

“I think so.”

#

Holding a bin overflowing with cans of furniture polish, cleaning solutions, and rags, Kimberly stood in the middle of the living room proudly observing the sun sparkling off all the recently shined and polished surfaces. “Not bad if I do say so myself,” she crowed. “One room down,” she continued pulling the vacuum across the room. “It was the biggest, too. So,” she paused while she mentally calculated the length of time since she had begun her task that morning, “I should be done by the time Star Trek comes on.” Humming happily, she entered the kitchen.

#

Dorthea glanced up at the crumbling brick façade of a row of deteriorating single-story buildings she was being led toward. After revealing her presumed identity to Gwen, the woman had agreed to a visit of the location of Paul Bingham’s store. Ownership of the building had remained with Gwen’s father who, by the time of his death, had purchased the entire commercial block.

“I know they need work,” Gwen said as she walked along the broken sidewalk in front of the mostly abandoned storefronts. “The years haven’t been good to them and as businesses moved to the newer parts of town, there were less people interested in renting them,” she explained. “I keep hoping the town will re-discover it’s past and will help fix them up. At one time, these were pretty spiffy looking,” she said as she stopped in front a doorway near the end of the block.

Trying to hide her impatience, Dorthea waited for Gwen to find the correct key on the enormous ring she had pulled from her purse. She stepped closer to the bay windows but could see little through the grimy and cracked panes. As she waited, she wondered what had possessed her to ask to see the building. After all, fifty years had passed since it had been occupied by Paul. Would anything of his remain inside the locked space? “What happened to the store after Paul left?” she asked Gwen who was trying to fit a key into the old lock on the door.

“Father sold what he could of the inventory. He rented out the store to others but they never lasted more than a few years. Ah, here we go,” she said triumphantly then pushed the door inward. The rusty hinges creaking loudly as they were forced to move for the first time in several years.

Dorthea followed Gwen inside the vacant store. The room was illuminated only by the sunlight that managed to make its way through the dingy windows at the front of the store. Even if she hadn’t known, she could have easily guessed the prior use of the space. A long counter ran the length of one side of the rectangular room, its glass front allowing for unobstructed viewing of a series of shelves. Several free standing display cases and tables which had once been placed about the room were now shoved into the far corner of the room. At the back of the room, an open doorway led into a much smaller area.

Dorthea moved about the room, curiously studying any object she encountered. Eventually, she made her way to the small room at the back. “Was this Paul’s office?” she asked before ducking her head through the doorway.

“Yes.” Gwen had remained near the front of the store, allowing Dorthea to explore the space unrestricted.

Dorthea stepped into the office. “It’s empty,” she murmured after finding the room completely devoid of furnishings.

“I’m sorry.”

Dorthea spun around to find Gwen was now standing just outside the passage from the store proper. “Um… nothing. I guess I thought… Maybe I was hoping…”

Gwen seemed to understand. “It’s been a long time. I doubt anything is left of Paul’s.”

“Probably not,” Dorthea said moving to a door at the back of the office.

“That leads to the alley out back. Best not to open it,” Gwen said when Dorthea reached for the knob. “Back of the building is in worse shape than the front.”

Dorthea nodded and backed away from the door. “Well… I guess… Thank you for letting me see it.”

“Not what you were expecting?”

Dorthea walked out of the office. “I’m not sure what I was expecting.”

“What are you going to do now?”

Dorthea considered her options as she walked with Gwen toward the front of the store. “Go home.”

“Not Cedarwood?”

“I don’t know what I could find out there that I haven’t already learned here. Paul isn’t there. What’s the chance any of his neighbors still are?” Dorthea asked as she walked out into the bright sunlight.

“Not very good.” Gwen pulled the door shut then locked it. “Every house on the street was destroyed along with his. Most of his neighbors didn’t stay around. That was one of the reasons he moved into the store. That and he didn’t have the money to rebuild, even if he wanted to. My father thought the only reason he didn’t lose the store was he must have owed it to Rocks.”

“Paul owed Rocks money? But I thought you said Rocks was a gangster.”

“A wanna-be. Mostly, he was a loan shark. If the tornado hadn’t killed him, Rocks probably would have ended up owning Kalona and a lot of the farms around it. If Paul owed him, he wasn’t the only one.”

“Do you think that’s why Paul wouldn’t speak out against Rocks?”

“I don’t know why. Rocks was dead, what could he have done to him? But it does make one wonder.”

“Yes, it does.” Dorthea held out her hand to Gwen. “Thank you. I appreciate everything you’ve told me. And for bringing me here; letting me see this.”

“I wish it was more. What will you do?”

“Go home. Talk to my aunt again. Try to get her to tell me the truth.”

“If she won’t?”

“Go on with my life.”

“Not knowing?”

Dorthea shrugged and smiled sadly. “There are worse things.”

Gwen nodded.

#

Kimberly sat at the kitchen table. It had taken her the best part of the last two hours cleaning the oven and defrosting the freezer. She looked around at all the surfaces she had yet to touch. “Ugh,” she muttered feeling a heavy tiredness in her arm and back muscles. “You better get home soon, girlfriend, because I am going to need one of your super duper back rubs when I get done with this.” She took a healthy drink from the glass of water she held. “How you doing?” she asked her missing roommate. After a moment, she again raised the glass to her lips and emptied it. She stood and placed the glass in the basin. “Sure is lonely around here without you,” she said then returned to her unfinished chore.

#

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

 Exhausted, Dorthea plodded along the sidewalk toward the apartment complex. After leaving the museum, she had walked to the bus depot and exchanged her ticket for the evening departure. That left her just enough time to return to the boarding house, share an early dinner with Lois, and pack her bag. The sun was dropping in the west when the bus pulled away from the depot and she was looking forward to sleeping on the long trip home. Unfortunately, her mind had other ideas and she spent the drive back to Rapid Falls replaying her conversations with Gwen, Harvey, and others in Kalona.

Finally, her steps brought her to the wall in front of the apartment building and she set her suitcase down so she could open the gate. Once opened, she hefted up her suitcase and entered the courtyard. Walking across to the flagstones leading into the building, she was curious to see the glow of lamps shining through the windows of the apartment she shared with Kimberly.

Dorthea glanced toward the eastern sky that was displaying little evidence of the rising sun. “Goodness, why in the world would you be up this time of day?” she asked aloud. “Crazy girl, probably fell asleep watching old movies again.” She forced her tired legs up the steps and entered the deserted lobby. A few minutes later, she was turning her key in the lock and pushing the door open.

She was surprised not to find Kimberly asleep on the couch. She let the suitcase drop from her hand to land with a soft thump on the carpeted floor then she set off to find her roommate. Hearing no sounds of movement coming from the kitchen or bathroom, she headed for Kim’s bedroom. The door was closed so she twisted the knob and quietly pushed it open. Her brow knotted in concern when she discovered the bed was unoccupied.

She turned to the door of her bedroom which was partially closed. When she tried to push it open, she found it blocked by something unseen behind it. She gave it a good shove and, although the door moved only a few inches it created enough of an opening for her to stick her head through. She spied Kim curled up on her bed sound asleep. Identifying the vacuum as the object blocking the door and being just out of her reach, she gave the wood panel a couple of strong shoves. Finally, she created enough of a gap to allow for her to squeeze into the room. She tiptoed across the room to the bed and knelt beside it. Crossing her arms on the mattress, she rested her chin on them.

Kimberly was on her side, her arms bent with her fists curled up under her chin. Dorthea reached out and gently brushed an errant strand of hair off of Kim’s face. She smiled when her fingertips lightly brushed against Kim’s soft cheek. “I missed you,” she whispered.

Kim’s eyes fluttered open then shut again.

“Kim,” Dorthea said softly.

“Wha..?”

Smiling, Dorthea watched Kimberly fight off the deep sleep that had claimed her. “Hey. I home.”

Kim forced her eyes open then yawned. “Already?” She yawned again. “Wait!” she exclaimed and bolted upright. “I slept through Sunday?”

Dorthea was startled by the unexpected movement. “No, no, no, no,” she cried as she jerked away from the bed. “I came home early.”

Now sitting up, Kimberly shook her head to clear the lingering sleepiness. “What? Early? What time is it?”

Dorthea stood up and flexed her aching knees. “Sunday morning sometime. It’s still dark outside.”

“Oh, good,” Kimberly said then flopped onto her back only to spring back upright a moment later. “Early? Why? What happened? Did you find out—?”

Dorthea placed her hand over Kim’s mouth. “Hush,” she said, sitting on the bed.

“Come on. Tell me. It’s been driving me crazy all day.”

Now Dorthea yawned, her mouth gaping open into a jaw popping chasm. “How about we talk after we’ve both had some sleep? I’m exhausted and, by the way you were flaked out a minute ago, I’d say you are, too.”

“Housework is hard.” Kim grinned. “Bless you for doing it.”

“Now that you know that, you can help.”

Kim flopped down on the bed. “Ugh.”

Dorthea kicked off her shoes. “Kim?”

“Um?”

“Why are you in my bed?”

“Oh, damn. I am, aren’t I?” Kimberly asked as she looked around the bedroom. “I left your room to the last,” she laughed, “it being the cleanest.”

“And?”

“Well, I’m not sure. I remember vacuuming. And I think I was going to dust your headboard. I guess I must have just fallen asleep.”

“Dusting?”

Kim shrugged. “Yeah, dusting.”

Dorthea laughed. “Well, I guess that makes sense.” She yawned again. “I am so exhausted that if I don’t lie down, I’m going to fall asleep talking.”

Kim pushed Dorthea down onto the mattress. “You go to sleep. I’ll go back to my room,” she said as she attempted to stifle a yawn of her own.

“Kim, if you’re as tired as I am, that is too far to go. Come on, this bed is big enough for two.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Now, lie down, shut up, and go to sleep.”

Kim smiled then settled onto her side, her back to Dorthea. “I’m glad you’re home.”

“Me, too.”

#

Kimberly woke to discover that sometime during her sleep, she had rolled over and now had her arms wrapped around her sleeping friend. For several minutes, she remained in the unexpected position trying to decipher why it felt so comfortable. Then she carefully extracted her arms and slipped off the bed.

Waiting until Kim left the room, Dorthea forced her eyes open. She tried to remember when she had actually fallen asleep. At first, her mind had refused to settle and had, instead, replayed a continuous series of possible scenarios for the information she had learned in Kalona. But when Kim rolled over and wrap her arms around her, her mind’s endless activity had finally slowed enough for her to slip into welcomed sleep.

Dorthea hugged herself, attempting to replace the missing warmth of Kim’s body. But the tingling sensation left from the contact had worn off. She rolled onto her back. She could hear Kimberly moving about in her bedroom on the opposite side of the wall shared by both bedrooms. She sighed. “What does all this mean?” she asked aloud.

#

 “You still look tired. Sure you don’t want to sleep some more?” Kim asked when Dorthea shuffled into the kitchen.

“Yes, but I want coffee and a hot bath more.”

Kim picked up the coffee pot and poured some into the pair of cups she had pulled from the cupboard earlier. “Coffee I can do,” she said handing one of the cups to her roommate.

“Thanks.” Dorthea raised the cup to her lips. “Oh, that’s good.”

Taking hold of Dorthea’s elbow, she gently turned her away from the kitchen. “Take it with you. By the time you finish your bath, I’ll have bacon and eggs ready.”

“Ooh, cleaning and cooking. You’re turning into a domesticated woman. Think what a wonderful wife you’ll make someone.”

“Ha, ha. Go, before I show you what I’ve learned to do with a broom.”

Giggling, Dorthea carried her coffee out of the kitchen. She detoured into the bathroom to turn on the bath water and left the cup on the edge of the tub before returning to her bedroom to grab fresh clothes.

#

The mouth watering aroma of sizzling bacon forced Dorthea out of the tub. She dressed quickly then hurried into the kitchen to find plates of scrambled eggs, strips of crisp bacon, and buttered toast already placed on the table. Set next to the plates were glasses of orange juice and milk. The coffee pot was sitting in the middle of the table. “You’ve been busy,” she told Kim, who was standing at the sink scrubbing the frying pan.

“Hope you’re hungry. I got a little carried away,” Kim apologized for the heaping plates.

“Starving. Can we?” Dorthea asked indicating the food.

Picking up a dish towel, Kim dried her hands. “I’ve just been waiting for you.” She moved to join Dorthea at the table. “So?” she asked as she sat.

Dorthea lifted a forkful of eggs. “So?”

“Dang it, woman! What did you find out?”

Dorthea finished chewing before answering. “Unfortunately, not as much as I hoped,” she said, refilling her fork.

“But, you did learn something. Right?”

“Yes.” As they ate, Dorthea repeated her conversations with Harvey and Gwen. And she told Kim about her visit to the cemetery and to what once had been Paul’s store.

 “Other than that one mention in the Kalona paper, you didn’t find any record of Esther?” Dorthea shook her head. “I thought you said Gwen told you the museum had the hospital records.”

“Some of them.”

Kim refilled their coffee cups. “Did you look at them?”

“I didn’t…” Dorthea paused to take a drink of juice. “I was going to say, I didn’t see any reason to but, to be truthful, I think I just couldn’t take any more disappointment.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you.”

“Now what?”

“I have some more names. I suppose I go back to Auntie Faye and ask her about them. Maybe she’ll admit to something.”

Kim frowned. “Don’t you think you’re a little old to still be calling her Auntie?” she asked, disgustingly.

Dorthea shrugged. “It’s what I’ve always called her. What would you suggest?

“Old bat. Witch. Dragon Lady—”

“Kim,” Dorthea chided.

“Well, she hasn’t been much of an aunt to you.”

“And your point?”

“Call her Faye. Or, Hey You. But not auntie. It makes my skin crawl when you do.”

“Really?”

Kim sighed. “Yeah. I mean, an aunt is supposed to be someone who loves you. And cares for you. She’s never been that.”

“But she’s the only family I have.”

Kim reached across the table. “No,” she said as she enclosed Dorthea’s hand with her own. “I’m family.”

“That’s true, you have been more of a family to me then she has.” Dorthea smiled. “And I will always love you for that.” Kim smiled uncertainly then awkwardly withdrew her hand causing her to wonder how her friend had interpreted her comment. “Um… What say, I help you clean this up.”

Happy for the change of subject, Kim replied, “How about I do this and you finish the cleaning in your bedroom?” She smirked. “I think I’ve had my fill of housecleaning for a while.”

“Don’t count on that. Now that I know you can do it, I’ll expect your help keeping the apartment clean.”

Kim groaned. “I knew I should have spent yesterday watching TV.”

Laughing, Dorthea stood then gathered up the dirty dishes. “Come on, if we work together, it won’t take us any time to finish.”

Begrudgingly, Kim rose from her chair. “Ok, I’ll do the dishes and you finish up in your room. Deal?”

“Deal.”

#

“What are you doing?” Kim asked when she walked into Dorthea’s bedroom. “I thought you’d have all this put away by now,” she said as she stepped over the vacuum.

“I decided to clean out my closet. There’s stuff in here I forgot I had.”

Kim laughed. “Cripes, I’d be afraid to pull everything out of mine. I’ve got stuff packed in there so tight it’s probably what’s holding up this end of the building. I don’t know why we haven’t found a bigger place before now.”

“Because we both love this apartment. Give me a hand with this.” Dorthea was standing on her tiptoes reaching for a box pushed into the back corner at the end of the closet shelf.

“Let me get a chair from the kitchen,” Kim said as she walked out of the room. She returned a few moments later. “Here,” she said setting the chair in the middle of the door opening.

“I should have thought of that,” Dorthea said stepping up on the chair. “Would have been easier than having some of that other stuff fall on my head when I pulled it out. Here,” she said, passing a cardboard box to her waiting roommate.

“This thing is heavy,” Kim groused as she tried to get a grip on the box that had once been used to package apples for shipping. “What’s in it, bricks?” She let the box slip down against her chest as she wrapped her arms firmly around it. “Hope the bottom doesn’t fall out,” she said as she carried it to the bed. “Couldn’t you have found a better box to use?”

Dorthea stepped off the chair. “It’s not mine.”

“Well, it’s not mine and it was in your closet.” Kim sat on the bed and heedlessly picked at the crumbling cardboard. “Sure is falling apart.”

“I completely forgot it was up there.” Dorthea slapped at Kim’s hand before lifting the lid off the box. “It’s Aunt Faye’s.”

“Oh?”

“When she had to move into the nursing home, I collected all the papers I didn’t think I should get rid of and threw them in here. I always meant to sort through this stuff,” Dorthea muttered when Kim lifted a yellowed sheet of paper of the top of the clutter inside the box. “Guess I can do it now; although, it’s probably mostly old bills and such.”

“Probably.” Kim pushed herself up from the bed. “I’m going to put this away,” she said as she picked up the vacuum. “Then I’m going to take a nap. I’ve had all the domestication I can handle this weekend.”

#

Kim’s eyes opened only to immediately clamp shut against the bright afternoon sun shining in her face. She forced the lingering lethargy from her body as she rolled off the mattress and onto her feet. “Coffee,” she muttered shuffling out of the bedroom.

Dorthea didn’t bother to look up when Kim entered the kitchen. She was sitting at the kitchen table which was covered in a jumble of papers. Her notepad from Kalona was in front of her and she was flipping through its pages.

“Is this fresh?” Kim asked of the pot of coffee sitting on the counter.

“No.”

Kim pulled a mug out of the cupboard and filled it. She took a sip then grimaced at the acrid taste. She reached for the bowl of sugar and added two heaping spoonfuls of the sweetener to her mug before taking another sip. “Beats nothing,” she said as she carried the cup over to where her roommate sat. “What are you doing?”

Dorthea continued flipping through her notepad. “Hmm?”

“Earth to Dorthea,” Kim said loudly. “What is all this? And why haven’t you made a new pot of coffee?”

Dorthea looked up. “Oh. Sorry. I guess I just… um… hang on a second, will ya,” she said as she returned to her notepad.

Kim pulled out the chair on the opposite side of the table and sat down. She idly sorted through the papers spread out on the table while she waited for her roommate to find whatever she was looking for. “Water bill from June 1952… six dollars and fifteen cents. Damn, that was cheap. Or, didn’t Dragon Lady let you bathe more than once a month.” When she received no response, she tossed the bill back on the pile and pulled another sheet free. “Fix broken window… twenty two dollars. Bet she had a fit about paying that one.”

“She did,” Dorthea mumbled.

“Did you break it?”

“No. A branch blew into it during a storm. Stop messing with that and look at this.”

“What?”

Dorthea passed a document across the table.

“A marriage license?”

“Yes. Look at the names.”

“Martin Lawrence Sanborn and Elizabeth F. Furston.”

“Right!”

Kim looked over at her excited roommate. “Okay… I don’t get it. Would these be your, um, grandparents?”

Dorthea shook her head. “No. It’s Auntie… Aunt Faye.”

“What? I never knew she was married.”

“Neither did I. But that’s not the issue.”

Kim took a second look at the license. “I’m obviously missing something.”

“I know. It’s not that she was married… It’s her maiden name—Furston.”

Kim looked quizzically at Dorthea who was getting more animated the more she talked. “Okay. What about it?”

“I knew when I saw that, I had heard the name, Furston, before. And here it is,” Dorthea held up her notepad. “Remember I told you about the two men who were seen at the hospital the day Esther disappeared.”

“Yes.”

“Nobody knew who the one man was… the one that asked about Esther. But the other man, he was well known in Kalona.” Dorthea pointed at her notepad, “Sonny Furston. He worked for Rocks.”

“Rocks?”

“Samuel Hampton. He liked to be called Rocks.”

“How odd. Why would anyone want to be called Rocks?”

“Never mind that. Rocks was a gangster… or, as Gwen said, a wanna-be. Mostly, it seems, he was a loan shark. Lots of people around Kalona owed him money, people trying to get back on their feet because of the depression. Gwen said her father thought Paul owed Rocks; that he probably borrowed to start his store.”

“Okay. But what about this Sonny?”

“He did Rocks dirty work. Beat up people who were late with their payments, that sort of thing.”

Kim shook her head. “Sounds like a bad James Cagney movie.”

“I know. Anyway, Sonny Furston... Faye Furston. There has to be a connection.”

“But this says Elizabeth,” Kim said as she passed the marriage license back to Dorthea.

“I know. Aunt Faye hated her first name.”

“Elizabeth? What’s wrong with Elizabeth?”

Dorthea shrugged as she rummaged through the stack of papers on the table. “Here,” she said pulling an envelope free and handing it to Kim. “It’s a letter sent to Aunt Faye in the late forties.”

Kim looked at the front of the envelope. “Have you read it?” Dorthea nodded. Kim carefully bent back the envelope’s flap and removed the single sheet of stationary it held. “Dear Faye. I’m sorry you’re having a tough time of things. I’ll try to send more when I can. Sonny.”

“Not much of conversationalist, was he? What do you think it means?”

“I have no clue. But it proves Aunt Faye knew him.”

Kim stood and walked back to the sink where she poured the contents of her mug down the drain. Then she did the same with the coffee left in the pot. Opening the cupboard under the sink, she shook the old coffee grounds into the wastebasket. She thought about making a fresh pot then decided against it. “You want a glass of milk she asked opening the refrigerator door.

“Sure. And some lemon cookies, if we have any.”

“We do.” Kim filled two glasses with milk then retrieved the package of requested cookies and carried all back to the table. “So, what are you thinking?” she asked when she handed Dorthea’s glass to her.

Dorthea sighed. “I just don’t know,” she said then took a swallow of the cold liquid. “For the life of me, I can’t figure out why… if Paul did owe Rocks money; why that could have anything to do with Esther’s disappearance.”

“Maybe Sonny liked Paul and was doing him a favor?”

“Then why didn’t Paul know anything about it? And Gwen said Sonny never did anything unless Rocks told him to.”

“Well, I guess we can go back to Kalona, find this Rocks, and him about it.”

“Can’t. He died in the tornado,” Dorthea explained. “Only casualty of the storm in Kalona.”

“How fitting. What about Sonny?”

“No one saw him after the hospital. He just disappeared.”

“Well, one person obviously knew where he was.” Kim said, tapping a lemon cookie on the envelope.

“Maybe.”

“What do you mean maybe? She received this.”

“I know. But there’s no return address. So she might not have actually known where he was.”

“Baloney. From what Sonny wrote, he was responding to something-- I’m sorry you’re having a tough time of things. She must have contacted him in some way first. I wonder what she was having a tough time over. Let’s see, the postmark is dated February 1949. You would have been fourteen? Fifteen? Ring any bells?”

Dorthea thought for a moment then shook her head. “She was always complaining, usually about having no money, but I can’t think of anything that was different then from any other time.”

“Maybe it had something to do with her husband. Did you ever know Martin Sanborn?”

“Never heard of him before I found that. The license is dated 1934. Whatever happened to him, and the marriage, must have happened before I came into the picture.”

“Dang. It seems like the more we learn, the less we know.”

Dorthea nodded. “I wish she’d just tell me the truth. What could it hurt?”

“I don’t know.” Kim bit the cookie she held in half then took her time chewing and swallowing. “If you are Esther, something happened a long time ago. Something unfortunate, to say the least. Maybe, in her twisted way of thinking, she’s just trying to protect you.”

Dorthea looked across at Kim and smiled. “Don’t tell me you’re developing a soft spot in your heart for her.”

Kim shook her head. “No,” she responded aloud as she thought to herself, but I think I may be for you. “Should we go give her another chance to come clean?”

#

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

 “I hope she’s cooperative,” Dorthea said as she and Kim climbed the steps up to the front of the nursing home. “I’m not leaving without some answers but I’d hate to miss the last bus and have to walk home.”

“We’ll take a cab.”

“Kim, they cost too much,” Dorthea protested.

“Maybe but I’m not walking all the way back to the apartment. Besides, I’m getting old. What the heck am I saving my money for if not to take a cab once in a while.”

“You’re not old.”

“I’m no spring chicken and neither are you. If we have to, we’ll take a cab.” They had reached the front door of the rundown building and Kim pulled it open. “End of discussion.” Dorthea nodded, conceding the point for the moment. “Oh, goodie, Nurse Ratched is on watch.”

“Stop it,” Dorthea hissed then walked across the lobby toward the nurses’ station. “Good afternoon, Helen.”

The under ambitious nurse watched the women enter the building; her aversion to having visitors clearly evident on her face. “It’s late,” she muttered. “I was about to make my rounds.”

Ignoring the nurse’s sneer, Dorthea signed the guest book being sure to list both hers and Kim’s names. “Yes, I know. Please continue with your duties, we’ll be in my aunt’s room. Come on, Kim.”

Helen eyed Kim suspiciously as she walked past with a sardonic grin on her face.

“Yes, please don’t let us keep you from that paperback you’ve got hidden under those charts,” Kim called to Helen then ducked into the hallway to follow Dorthea.

Dorthea shook her head. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

Kim smirked. “Seems not.”

“You’re so bad.”

“Isn’t that why you love me?”

Dorthea bit her lip to stop the response that almost slipped out. “Come on,” she said after a moment as she resumed her steps. Just before she pushed open the door to her aunt’s room, she stopped forcing Kim to also come to an abrupt halt behind her. Without turning to face her friend, she said, “Don’t ask me questions like that unless you really want to know the answer.” Then she rushed into the room leaving Kim, mouth agape, standing alone in the hallway.

“Wha?”

#

“Aunt Faye?” Dorthea asked softly. Her aunt was lying on her bed with her back to the door. “Are you awake?”

“Who is it?”

“Dorthea.”

“Why are you here?” Faye asked, peeking over her shoulder at the woman standing at the end of the bed. “And you?” she grumbled, spotting Kim standing in the shadows in front of the door.

Dorthea walked around the bed to stand in front of her aunt. She took a deep breath then blurted out the question that had been burning her tongue for the past few hours. “Aunt Faye, who is Sonny Furston?”

Faye’s already pale skin turned ashen. “Who?” she asked weakly.

“Sonny Furston. Who is he?”

“I don’t know.”

Dorthea reached out to stop her aunt from rolling over and turning away from her. “You do know. Who is he? Your father? Brother? Who?” Faye, eyes narrowing in anger, glared up at her. “I know you know,” she said determinedly. “And this time, I’m not leaving until you tell me. I want to know. And I want to know everything.”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“What’s going on in here?” Helen barged into the room.

“Are you alright?” Dorothy rushed to Kim who had been knocked into the wall by the door unexpectedly being thrown open.

Struggling to regain her footing, Kim rubbed her right shoulder that had absorbed the brunt of the blow. “I think so.”

“Sit down,” Dorthea commanded grabbing the room’s only chair and dragging it next to Kim who was leaning against the wall on unsteady legs. When Kim settled on the chair, Dorthea spun around to angrily face the cause of the unanticipated intrusion. “You could have injured her. How dare you—”

“How dare I? I’ll do anything I damn well please. I’m responsible for the patients here and when I heard—”

“What you heard was a private conversation. You should have knocked.”

“I don’t think—”

“That’s right, you don’t. Nothing is going on in here that concerns you.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

“Get out!”

Helen stood her ground. “I’ll leave. But after I check on Miss Sanborn.” She took a step toward the bed only to find her path blocked.

Dorthea stared Helen down. “I’ll not tell you again.”

“I think this is a matter for Mr. Galing,” Helen threatened as she backed away from the enraged woman confronting her.

“Yes, I think it is. And, when you make that call, be sure to inform him that I’ll be seeking other arrangements for Aunt Faye.”

Helen started to respond then snapped her mouth shut. She knew better than most how hard the nursing home’s administrator had to work to find families willing to commit their loved ones’ final years inside the dilapidated building. And she was sure that he’d be less than pleased to hear a long term resident was threatening to leave. “Very well,” she finally said. “I shall hold you responsible for Miss Sanborn this evening. And I will be making note of this incident in my log.” That said, Helen turned on her heel and stormed out of the room.

“Good riddance,” Kim snarled, kicking the door shut behind the retreating nurse. “Think she’ll call him?” she asked in a calmer voice.

“I don’t care,” Dorthea said then dropped onto the bed. Her heart was racing and she felt as if she might pass out. Breathing heavily, she closed her eyes in an attempt to settle her nerves. Only when she felt the warmth of a hand on the side of her face did she open them.

“Hey, you okay?” Kim asked gently. She was kneeling in front of Dorthea, her concern clearly displayed on her face.

Dorthea nodded. “Not how I expected this to go,” she said then smiled weakly. “I’m fine. How about you?”

“I think I’ll have a nasty bruise but otherwise okay.”

“I always thought you had a fire under that meekness.” Both women turned to see Faye sitting up on the bed watching them. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you raise your voice.”

“I didn’t think we needed two yellers in the house,” Dorthea answered, squirming to find a more comfortable position, having to awkwardly twist her torso to face her aunt.

“Here,” Kim said as she placed the chair on the floor beside the bed.

“But—”

“It’s okay. I’ll sit on the floor.” Kim stepped away from the bed and sat directly in front of the door, resting her back against the wood. She grinned at Dorthea. “This should prevent any more unwanted interruptions.”

Dorthea nodded in agreement then transferred to the chair and looked at her aunt. “Sonny Furston?”

Faye took her time arranging a stack of pillows at the head of the bed. “Where did you hear of him?” she asked, leaning back.

“It’s a long story. Who is he?”

Faye smiled as she thought back over many years and many memories. “My brother.”

“Where is he now?”

Faye shrugged and her expression hardened. “Probably dead for all I know. I haven’t heard a word from him in years.”

“Did he kidnap me?”

“Kidnap you? Why on earth would Sonny do that? He already had enough trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“The kind you don’t need to know about.”

“Aunt Faye, please. Tell me.”

“Tell you what? That he kidnapped you?” Faye shook her head. “I don’t know how he got you.”

Startled by the admission, Dorthea looked at Kim. She turned back to her aunt when Kim encouraged her by mouthing the words, Go on. Ask.

“Got me? So it was Sonny who left me with you?” For a moment, Dorthea thought Faye would again refuse to provide the answer to the often asked question.

“Oh, hell,” Faye muttered. “What can they do to an old woman now? I’m already dying. Maybe prison would be an improvement over this hell hole.”

“Aunt Faye—”

“Hold your horses. I’ll tell you but I need a drink first. Think you can get that lazy ass nurse to cough up some juice?”

Kim sprang to her feet. “I’ll go. Be right back,” she literally ran out the door before Dorthea could protest.

#

Balancing a tray holding a pitcher of orange juice and three glasses, Kim pushed the door to Faye’s room open. After forcing Helen to show her the way to the cafeteria, she had made quick work of getting what she thought would be required for Faye to continue her story. She had also snagged a package of cookies and some saltines. “Did I miss anything?” she asked breathlessly setting the tray down on the dressing table.

“No. She won’t talk until she has some juice.”

“Here,” Kim said holding a glass out to Faye who accepted the offering without comment. Kim then filled the other two glasses and passed one to Dorthea before grabbing a handful of cookies and resuming her seat in front of the door.

Faye sipped the cool juice while her fingers idly played with the half dozen cookies Dorthea had placed on the bedspread covering her lap. After several minutes, she took a deep breath. “I don’t think I can tell you what you’re wanting to hear.”

“Just tell me what you know.”

Faye nodded and took another sip. “Sonny showed up one day with you. He wouldn’t tell me much. Just that he had to put you someplace safe.”

“Did he say why he had me? Or where he got me? Or why—?”

“I told you, he wouldn’t say much.”

“He must have told you something.”

“He told me to give you a name and to take care of you. He gave me fifty dollars for food and said he’d be back in a few days to get you.” Faye took a bite of cookie. “Obviously, that didn’t happened,” she scoffed as she chewed.

“Didn’t you ask?”

“I asked lots of questions. Got the same answers you’re getting.”

Dorthea blew out a long breath. “Was Sonny living in Kalona then?”

“Somewhere down in those parts. He never gave me an address.”

“Was he there when the tornado hit?”

“What tornado?”

“The one that destroyed Cedarwood in thirty-eight. The same year he left me with you.”

“I don’t know. He could have been. Was that in thirty-eight? So long ago…”

“Did Sonny mention a Paul Bingham? Or anybody by the name of Bingham?”

“I don’t know.”

“Think. Please.”

“It was so long ago. I don’t remember.”

“Bingham. Have you ever heard that name?” Faye shook her head. “Esther?”

“Esther… It’s… familiar. But I can’t place it. Who’s Esther?”

“Me. I think my name was Esther before Sonny brought me to you.”

“He told me to change your name. I don’t remember.”

“Where’s Sonny now?”

“I don’t know.”

“You never hear from him?”

“I haven’t heard from him since… It must have been after the end of the war.”

“Which one?”

“The only one that counted. War two.”

“Sonny served?”

Faye laughed. “Not in the kind of uniform you’re thinking. He spent the war in prison. I kept writing that I needed more money— it strained my budget having you around. One day, my letters to him came back unopened. I figured he got out but…”

“You never thought to write the warden and ask?” Kim

“Didn’t see the point. I figured he show up sooner or later.”

“That doesn’t help much,” Kim groused. Faye shrugged.

“Did Sonny ever mention someone named Rocks Hampton?” Dorthea interjected, interrupting the glaring match between Kim and her aunt.

Faye grimaced. “No good, that’s what he was,” she spit out the words. “It was his fault Sonny went to prison.”

“Did Sonny worked for him?”

Faye nodded. “If you want to call it that. He did whatever Rocks told him to do.”

“Do you know what type of things he would do?”

“He said he encouraged folks to do what was right. But I heard stories. He did bad things. Real bad.”

“Where did Sonny go after he left me with you?”

“He said he had to go find Rocks. That’s why he said you’d only have to stay a few days. As soon as he found Rocks, everything would be okay again.”

“He must not have known Rocks died in the tornado,” Kim said.

“He did?” Faye asked.

Dorthea nodded. “This doesn’t make sense. Why would Sonny bring me here then say he had to go find Rocks. And why didn’t he come back for me after he discovered Rocks was dead.”

“Maybe he was afraid,” Kim answered.

“Afraid of what?”

“Kidnapping was a crime back then, just like now.”

“But he could have taken me back.”

“Not much sense in asking questions that can’t be answered,” Faye huffed.

“Did you ever see Sonny after that?”

“No. He’d send money every so often. Then I got a letter from him. He said he was in prison and he couldn’t send any more. I wrote him back and said he had to…” Faye turned to face Dorthea. “It was tough. I was doing my best but I wasn’t making much at the drug store. You knew that. I couldn’t afford…”

Dorthea nodded. “I knew money was tight. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Faye dropped back onto her pile of pillows. “I couldn’t,” she said in a whisper.

Dorthea studied Faye as she lay with her eyes staring up at the ceiling. Never having witnessed Faye without the hard defensive shell she had encased herself inside, she knew this was a different woman. “You never told me you were married—”

Faye jerked upright. “None of your damn business.”

“What happened to Martin?”

“He’s been gone a long time,” Faye responded with little emotion.

“Is that why you’re so bitter?” Kim asked. “Couldn’t keep a man?”

“I don’t see where you’ve been too successful in that department,” Faye sniped back. “Closest thing you’ve ever had to a marriage is Dorthea.” She laughed when both women blanched. “What? No smart ass remark?” she asked Kim sat with a dumbfounded look frozen on her face.

“Aunt Faye!” Dorthea exclaimed, finding her voice.

Faye shrugged. “I need more juice.”

As Dorthea refilled Faye’s glass, she shot a quick glance in Kim’s direction to find her head turned toward the wall. “Kim?”

Without turning her head, Kim waved dismissively. “I’m okay. Just… I’m okay.”

Faye laughed. “Didn’t think I’d see the day she couldn’t bite back.”

“Leave her alone.” Dorthea was torn between wanting to see what was wrong with Kim and keeping her aunt talking. She gave her friend another look then turned her attention back to her aunt. “What about Martin?”

“What about him?”

“Aunt Faye!”

“We married in thirty-four. We came here and Martin got a job…” A smile eased onto Faye’s face as she remembered happier times. “A good job at the mill. We were living in a small apartment above the Henley Meat Market down on Front Street but we talked about looking for a house and starting a family. Martin wanted to wait until we had some money put away.” Her memories drifted away. “We never had the chance.”

“What happened?” Dorthea gently asked.

“They installed a new boiler and were testing it when a release valve failed. The explosion killed twenty nine workers. Martin was one of them.” Faye turned her attention to Kim who had been quietly watching as she revealed her most painful memory. “Yes, I’m bitter. I had a good man. A decent man. Then he was gone.” Her voice softened. “I never got to…” Faye’s words were lost in the sob that escaped her lips.

Dorthea reached for her aunt’s hand and was surprised when it wasn’t snatched from her grasp. “I’m so sorry, Aunt Faye.”

Faye looked at their entwined fingers then slowly raised her eyes to Dorthea’s face. She was startled to see the tears slipping down her face. “I’m not your aunt,” she finally admitted in a shaky voice.

Dorthea nodded. “You’re the only aunt I’ve ever known.”

Slowly, Faye pulled her hand from Dorthea’s. “I’m tired,” she said, her voice barely audible.

“We’ll go.” Dorthea stood. “Thank you.”

Faye watched Dorthea walk toward Kim who was standing to join her. “Will you be back?”

Dorthea turned around. The bed’s occupant had changed from the defiant, mean spirited custodian of her childhood into a frail, frightened woman desperately needing to know that someone, anyone, cared about her. She quickly moved back alongside the bed and bent to place a tender kiss on Faye’s cheek. “We’ll be back. I promise.”

#

Dorthea sat on the steps in front of the nursing home as she waited for Kim who, against Helen’s vehement protests, had commandeered the phone at the nursing station to call for a cab. The sun had set hours before and she was enjoying the sea of stars that filled the sky over her head. She heard someone descending the steps behind her and didn’t have to look to know it was Kim.

“How’s your shoulder?” Dorthea asked when Kim sat beside her.

“Sore. How are you doing?”

“I’m alright. More answers, more questions.”

“Seems like that’s how this has been going. Frustrating.”

“It is.”

“What do we do now?”

Dorthea turned toward her overly anxious friend. She also felt the strange undercurrent of tension between them. “That question brings up lots of possible answers.”

Kim laughed nervously. “It sure does. But I think for now, it best to stick to what you plan to do with what Faye told us.”

Dorthea smiled warily. “She told us quite a lot, didn’t she?” She watched Kim fidget. “I know we need to talk… but not now. Not tonight. Okay?”

“Okay. But we do need to talk.”

“Agreed.”

Kim relaxed a bit. “What about Sonny? If he… If you are Esther and he… Well, what now?”

“Ah. That’s easy.”

“It is?” Kim asked even as Dorthea confidently nodded. “How can it be? Faye didn’t give us much to go on.”

“Faye? Not the Dragon Lady?”

Kim grinned sheepishly. “Guess I’ve had a change of heart.”

“Lot of that going around lately,” Dorthea said thoughtfully. “I think you might have been right.”

“About?”

“About Faye. Maybe she was just trying to protect me. She didn’t want me to know what a terrible thing had been done to me.”

“I can think of better ways to go about that.”

“I’ll admit it wasn’t easy for me. But I think it might have been worse for her.”

Kim studied her shoes. “Maybe.” She turned to look at Dorthea. “Now, back to the easy answer. What are you going to do?”

“Find Paul Bingham.”

“What?”

“He’s the only one who can tell me if I truly am his daughter.”

“How? You don’t even know where to look for him.”

“Los Angeles.” Dorthea laughed at Kim’s look of confusion. “Guess I left that tidbit out. Gwen said he went to California. She thought someplace around Los Angeles.”

“Thought? That’s a pretty big place to look for one man.” Dorthea nodded. “Do you think he’s even alive? What would he be, seventy-five? Seventy-six?”

Dorthea thought for a moment. “You know, I don’t have any idea how old he’d be. But if I was four in thirty-eight, he’d have been what? Twenty-five? Thirty?”

“It’s going to make it hard to find him.”

“I don’t care. He’s the only chance I have left to know for sure if I am Esther,” Dorthea said as she pushed herself up from the step. “Here’s our cab.”

Kim stood and walked down the steps. As she started across the sidewalk to the curb, her progress was brought to an abrupt stop when her arm was grabbed by her friend.

“I know that we may not find him. I know that chances are he’s dead. I know. But it’s all I have to hang on to Kim. Do you understand? I can’t not try.” She smiled when Kim nodded. “Thank you.”

Kim’s response was lost when the cabbie honked his horn and both women turned toward the street. Kim grabbed Dorthea’s hand. “Let’s go home.”

#

to be continued

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