Firefly Beach (20 page)

Wyatt stood up. “I couldn’t bear the thought of a complete retirement. What would I do all day? Watch the grass grow?”

“I promise I’ll call you if…no,
when
I find them.”

Linda smiled at Beth. It was a smile weighted by a look that said
I’ve already exhausted the possibilities.

“We look forward to hearing from you, Beth,” Wyatt said, casting a stern glance in Linda’s direction.

“You will,” Beth assured him.

* * * *

Eleanor Sharpe’s Tudor stood at the end of a long drive, about two miles from the surrounding neighborhood houses. It was a striking, well maintained home, mostly brick. Chocolate brown strips of wood accented its white gables. A large brick chimney to the left of the arched doorway dominated the front, and a forty-five foot red maple shaded the right half of the house. Its leaves rustled softly as Beth walked up the path and rang the bell.

A young woman answered the door. She looked tired and disgruntled. She sighed. “May I help you?”

“Is Eleanor Sharpe home?”

“She really doesn’t want visitors right now.”

Beth inspected the young woman. Her brown hair was unkempt but clean. She wore thin, white cotton pants, and a blue striped cotton shirt. She stood with one hand on her hip. Reading the body language, Beth surmised that the young miss was the person who would not welcome visitors.

Beth stepped forward slightly and spoke loudly, glancing up the stairs to the right of the entryway. “But I’ve come all this way just to see her,” Beth said, hoping her voice resonated throughout the house.

“Who’s there, dear?” an elderly voice called from somewhere upstairs.

The young woman glared at Beth. “Who exactly
are
you?”

“I’m Beth LaMonte from…” Beth paused for a moment. Eleanor Sharpe had avoided the Bennings decades ago when they came looking for Katherine and Susie Thompson. It was not likely that a full disclosure of Beth’s true mission would gain her entrance into the home. She rattled her brain for a plausible fib. She had told so many in the previous two weeks; they ought to have come naturally. Finally she said, “I’m a friend of her grandson.” Keeping her fingers crossed that Mrs. Sharpe actually had a grandson, Beth clenched her jaw and waited.

“Send her up, dear. Send her up,” an enthusiastic voice rang from upstairs.

The woman in cotton rolled her eyes, stepped aside, and made an overtly sarcastic gesture swishing her arm from the door toward the stairs. “Come right on in,” she said, making no attempt to conceal the disdain in her voice.

She led Beth upstairs to the first door on the right.

Excessive floral prints overwhelmed the bedroom. Lavish dark wallpaper covered with roses made the room feel small and somewhat oppressive. Lilacs adorned the bedspread and matching window coverings. The thick curtains remained partially closed, giving the area a gloomy atmosphere. A long, white, antique dresser with curvy legs sat by the wall next to the closet. It would have been beautiful, except that the paint was chipped and an assortment of scarves, brooches, and lotion bottles cluttered its surface. With a little daylight and a tad less flash, the room might have been considered cozy.

Mrs. Sharpe looked pale and weak. She sat propped up in bed with a book in her lap. A glass of water and a half dozen medicine bottles lingered on the bedside table. The elderly woman’s body was frail, but her eyes were full of life. She eagerly awaited the arrival of her unexpected guest.

“Don’t you mind Rebecca. She’s a bit of a grouch to strangers, but she’s the best nurse I’ve ever had.”

Rebecca gave Eleanor Sharpe a look normally reserved for a parent to a mischievous child.

“Are you Tom’s girlfriend?” Eleanor asked, her raspy voice filled with anticipation.

Beth looked back at Rebecca. “Would you excuse us for a moment, Miss Rebecca?” she said in a saccharine tone.

“Why certainly,” Rebecca said, an artificial grin adorning her face. She exited and swiftly closed the door behind her.

“So, how is Tom?”

Beth took a deep breath. How long would it take Rebecca to throw her out? She listened, as Rebecca’s footsteps grew fainter. Then she admitted, “I’m not Tom’s girlfriend.”

“Well, then who…oh my, is he in trouble?”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Sharpe. I don’t even know Tom. I’m here because I’m trying to locate Katherine Thompson. She was your tenant in the late seventies.”

Eleanor’s smile faded. Beth looked away, bracing herself for an outburst of anger and an immediate summons to Rebecca. But there was only silence. Beth looked up. The old woman’s face seemed to have aged five years in the matter of a moment.

“Sit down,” she said in a low growl.

Beth grabbed a wooden, high back chair with a red floral upholstered seat from the corner of the room. She sat down a few feet away from Eleanor’s bed.

“So who are you looking for? Katherine or Susie?”

The question caught Beth off guard. “Both, I guess. Initially, I came looking for Katherine. I didn’t know she had a daughter.”

“If you are looking for Katherine I cannot help you. That irresponsible young woman disappeared one day, leaving her eighteen-month-old daughter behind.”

Beth’s jaw dropped. “She left her behind?”

“Yes,” the old woman barked. “She left her
here
with me, a forty-six-year-old divorcee, trying to make ends meet. A freeloading boarder who needed her diaper changed,” she grumbled bitterly.

Beth gasped and her stomach churned. The chill in the air grew more ominous.

Eleanor took a few deep breaths. The emotional outburst left her weary. “I’m sorry,” she said in a more civil tone. “It’s just that I was so angry. That young girl got herself pregnant, rented a room from me without letting me know she was expecting, and then left that poor child…abandoned her. I hated her for it. Stupid, selfish girl.”

“Did she leave you a note? Do you think she abandoned her or could she possibly have committed suicide?”

“What’s the difference?” the old woman snapped.

“I suppose you are right,” Beth mumbled. She sighed. “Did she say
anything?
Who was taking care of Susie that day? Did Katherine disappear in the middle of the night?”

Eleanor cleared her throat. “Conveniently,” she said in a flippant tone, “I was taking care of Susie that day. It was a Sunday. During the week Susie either went to Mrs. Luntz’s daycare or Katherine took her to work. The dentist and his wife spoiled that undeserving little tramp. Imagine, letting her bring a baby to work.

“Anyway, occasionally I watched Susie. My grandchildren lived all over the country. I enjoyed a baby day now and again.” She looked sternly at Beth. “But I wasn’t looking for a full-time caregiving situation.”

“I understand,” Beth said patiently. “Did Katherine say what she was going to do that day?”

“She said she was visiting her father, that she would be gone all day. I was very gracious about it, mind you. I sensed it was important to her. But she was rather melancholy and jumpy that morning, and she gave Susie a big, long goodbye hug as if she intended to be gone for days. Then she rushed out of the house. In retrospect, I thought it was odd. After she disappeared, I wondered…did she even have a father to go home to? Where was her mother? Why didn’t she want to bring Susie with her? Wouldn’t the man want to see his own grandchild?”

“Her mother was dead, and she was afraid of her father,” Beth said curtly. “The old man is one difficult individual.”

Eleanor narrowed her eyes. “A grandparent
always
wants to know their grandchildren. I can understand him being totally disappointed with that capricious daughter of his, but that wouldn’t keep him from wanting to meet his granddaughter.”

“Theorize all you want. You don’t know Rod Thompson.”

Eleanor looked toward the dresser uncomfortably. “If you know him, why don’t you ask him where his daughter is?”

“I have,” Beth said sharply. Then she toned it down and mumbled, “It’s complicated.”

“Not nearly as complicated as my life became when Katherine left me with a year-and-a-half-old child. I kept hoping she would return, hoping that there would be a big story about troubles with her father or some other pathetic excuse, but there was no phone call, and she never came home.”

Rebecca interrupted unexpectedly. She peeked in and frowned at Beth. “Perhaps your guest should be leaving now,” she said.

“I can take care of myself,” Eleanor reassured her. “Now go along and polish some forks.”

Rebecca scowled, a look that said
life is too short for this kind of treatment.
But she did not respond. She closed the door and walked away.

Beth turned back to Eleanor and continued to press for information. “Did she take her things?”

“Except for her purse, she left nearly everything behind – her suitcase, most or all of her clothing, everything that belonged to Susie. Nothing was missing as far as I could tell.”

“I suppose that would be natural if one was leaving on a day trip.”

Eleanor retorted, “Or calculated if one was leaving for good and wanted to have the freedom to put four hundred miles between herself and those she left behind before they noticed something was wrong.”

“Or irrelevant if someone was planning on committing suicide,” Beth muttered in disappointment.

All of a sudden the elephant in the middle of the room whacked Beth over the head. “Where is Susie?”

The old woman looked away – a grim, tired expression on her face.

“Where is Susie? And why didn’t you ask the Bennings for help? They were her godparents.”

Eleanor sighed, fiddled with the bookmark in her book, and finally spoke. “I was so angry those first few days, I didn’t want to talk with anyone, especially not the Bennings. Those folks were part of the problem. They pampered that sinful, irresponsible girl. They contributed to her downfall.”

“They certainly did not get her pregnant. Perhaps they were just helping her out, a young girl trying to rebuild her life,” Beth said in Katherine’s and the Bennings’ defense. “Anyway,” she added sharply, “you have not answered the question. What happened to Susie?” Beth stood up.

“Oh, sit down. I’ll tell you the story. An old woman knows when it is time to let go of her well-guarded secrets. Who knows how many summers I have left? It is time.”

Beth sat patiently, but her stomach churned. She turned her lips inside on themselves and tried to tame her heartbeat with slow, quiet breaths.

“Katherine disappeared on November thirteenth. At first, I thought she was delayed, that she would return. I thought it was unusual that she didn’t call, but she was an irresponsible, self-centered girl. Susie and I kept to ourselves. I didn’t go out. I didn’t answer the phone or the door. We had canned soup for Thanksgiving dinner.”

“That was almost two weeks. I still don’t understand why you wouldn’t ask—”

“Be quiet, young lady. You were not there. You do not know what it was like. To look into those soft green eyes and wonder if you’ll ever have to tell that child her mother isn’t coming home. I figured if I didn’t make a big deal out of it, Katherine would return, everything would go back to normal, and no one would be the wiser. I didn’t get along that well with the Bennings. We’d had words about Katherine, unpleasant words. I was worried that if they took Susie, they might not let me see her again.”

“The freeloading boarder?” Beth asked sarcastically.

“Don’t taunt me,” Eleanor replied tersely.

Beth sighed. “I’m sorry. Please continue.”

“Susie started to cry more frequently. We were running out of food. So I called my son, Gregory, who was living in New Jersey. I told him what happened, and I asked him what I should do. I figured it was time to let the Bennings take her, but I was so distraught, I needed to hear my son’s voice. He told me to wait a few days. He promised to call me back. He warned me not to tell
anyone.
He said it was very important. So Susie and I held out for a few more days.

“One afternoon someone came to the door. As usual I shushed Susie and hid, leaving the curtains closed and the lights off. But a note slipped through the mail slot. It said, ‘Gregory sent us.’”

Beth’s stomach continued to churn, and she was unable to slow her rapid heartbeat.

“I approached the door cautiously. I peered out the window. A young, well-dressed couple stood at the door. There was no one else in sight. I ushered them in quickly.”

“No, no, no,” Beth mumbled, shaking her head.

Eleanor gave her a long, cold stare before she continued. “They were a
very
nice couple – young, wealthy, well mannered…decent people. They were from upstate New York. They wanted to arrange a private adoption.”

“You sold her?”

“What was I supposed to do? Turn her over to the state orphanage?”

“What about the Bennings?”

“The Bennings be damned. They didn’t know anything about raising children. They were childless.”

“A lot like the wealthy couple, I would imagine.”

“Those people could provide for her things she would not get here in Bangor. They wanted a child desperately. The woman fell in love with Susie on the spot. It was perfect for everyone.”

“I’m sure it was,” Beth said coolly. “How much did they pay you?”

“Five thousand dollars.”

Beth raised her eyebrows.

“It was a lot of money in those days.”

“I know,” Beth grumbled. “What was that you said about being worried that you’d never see her again?”

Eleanor stuck her chin out and said definitely, “I was arranging a good future for Susie.”

“What if Katherine came back?”

“She didn’t come back.”

Beth had no response. She was seething but Eleanor was right about the last fact. Why didn’t Katherine return? Did she commit suicide? Did she get tired of single motherhood and run away? The Bennings and Mrs. Sharpe relayed drastically different character analyses of Katherine. Which version was the most accurate? Beth stood up and paced the room.

“How can I find her?” she asked pointedly.

“They went by John and Mary Smith, although I doubt that those were their real names.” Eleanor’s lips curled up slyly.