Blood Relations (15 page)

I scanned the cemetery and the surrounding woods for another person but saw no one. It felt like eyes were watching me, but that had to be my imagination. I'm fairly impressionable, I'll admit. I turned down the row, and there were the seven headstones, all next to one another, with a paddle wheel carved into each. They simply read:
FEMALE. WRECK OF
THE PHANTOM,
1919, or
MALE
, as the case might be. All seven tombstones were identical, other than designating the deceased as male or female. And somebody else had stood right where I was now, looking down at these same stones, in the last day or so. The footprints turned back on themselves and led out the way they had led in, back to the parking lot.

Snapping two pictures of the tombstones, I listened for any change in the world around me. The hawk screeched from several rows away, a car passed by on Highway P, and my breathing had become more labored from the trudge up through the snow. I snapped a picture of all of the footprints, and one of the church and surrounding area, as well. All together, I probably took six pictures. And then I ran like hell back to the van.

You'd think as much time as I spend in cemeteries that I would have learned not to let my imagination run away with me. But it happens every now and then, just the same.

Words cannot express how difficult it was to move quickly when only one foot worked correctly. I sort of ran, hopped, leapt, and said, “Ooch, ouch” the whole way.

As I was getting in the van, Earl Kloepper came wandering down the front steps of the church. He is about fifty-five and walks with a pronounced limp, usually with the aid of a cane. It worried me that he was walking down the slippery steps without his cane, so I postponed leaving and made my way toward him.

“Reverend Kloepper,” I said. “You need some help?”

He looked down at my slipper-clad foot and laughed. “The blind leading the blind?”

“Well, if we fall, at least we'll fall together,” I said.

He made it to the bottom of the steps just as I reached him. “Where are you headed?” I asked.

“Goin' into town to get some salt for out here,” he said. “Lotsa traffic lately. The shipwreck, you know.”

I walked beside him as we headed to the parking lot, making sure that he didn't fall. “Where's your cane?”

“Left the dern thing at my mother's when I went to see her at the home yesterday,” he said. “Gotta pick it up while I'm out. What brings you here?”

“Oh, uh…” I glanced toward the cemetery.

“The shipwreck,” he said.

I nodded. “You have a lot of people coming out to look at the graves?” I asked, feeling a little bewildered by how other people in town knew that the graves were here but I hadn't.

“More than usual,” he said. “Had some reporters a few days ago. Some townsfolk. Even Helen Wickland stopped out there to see 'em when she was here Monday for the Bingo chili supper.”

Helen had compiled the information on this particular cemetery for the country records, so it made sense that she'd know about the graves. “Well, you be careful, Reverend Kloepper,” I said. “It's pretty slick in town.”

“I will,” he replied.

He waited for me to return to my van and then he started his car. He put it in reverse about the time I was crossing the bridge.

Eighteen

I sat in my favorite booth at Fraulein Krista's. I'd come early so that I could be there waiting for Stephanie Connelly. For some reason, if I had arrived and she had already been here, I would have felt awkward. Even though it's my town and my booth, I still would have felt like the outsider. I know, I was just being a jerk. I'd brought some pictures along for her to see. Pictures of Dad growing up, pictures of Grandma and Grandpa Keith, and pictures of me through the years, and my kids. She might not care at all, but if I were in her shoes, I would love it if somebody brought me pictures of my family for me to see.

Just like a scene out of a movie, Stephanie entered the restaurant almost in slow motion. Looking around, her gaze landed on me in the back of the room. She smiled, tucked her hair behind her ear, and walked toward me. I seemed to be in a vacuum as she approached. Suddenly, it was as if there was nobody else in the restaurant and no noise in the universe. I was looking at my sister.
My sister.
It was just too surreal.

She sat down with a swoosh of Estée Lauder and put a package on the table next to her. “Hi,” she said.

“Hi.”

She noticed my crutches leaning up against the booth. “Did you break your leg?”

“No, just sprained my ankle. But I sprained it really good,” I said.

“How'd you do that?”

I thought it would be best if I didn't tell her that I broke it while trying to identify a dead body. It might scare her off. “Slipped.”

“Oh,” she said.

We both started talking at the same time, both gushing apologies. “You go first,” I said.

“No, you.”

“I, um, just wanted to apologize for the way I reacted the other day when you came into my office,” I said. “I didn't know what to do or say. I felt extremely betrayed. And I acted like a jerk. It took a lot of guts for you to come and see me.”

“It's all right,” she said, and shrugged. “It's not as if I just blurted it out. I was a little chicken.”

“No, it's not all right. I shouldn't have acted that way. I considered nobody or nothing except myself. I mean, you really threw me. I just thought that if my dad had fathered a child, I'd know about it. And there you were, standing in front of me in the flesh, and I didn't even know about you,” I said. “I guess it was a real blow to my ego.”

“Your ego?” she asked.

“Yeah, I take great pride in knowing everything,” I said, and laughed. “Or at least I think I know everything. Then every now and then, something or somebody comes along and proves me wrong, and it knocks me on my butt. That's what I get for having an ego in the first place, I suppose. God's revenge.”

She laughed for a minute. “Well, I am very sorry I upset you. But it became pretty clear that Dwight was never going to tell you. And I … just couldn't wait any longer. After my daughter was born … well, she just made me more aware of what was missing in my own life.”

“That happened to you, too?” I asked. “I had always wanted a sibling, but it was almost painful not having siblings once I had my own kids and I watched how they interacted. Of course, Rachel and Mary swear they hate each other right now. That's been going on for about two years, but I have faith that it will pass. But, at any rate, there wasn't much I could do about not having siblings. I couldn't just waltz out and create a sibling for myself.”

“Yeah, and I have people say to me, ‘Oh, you were an only child? I bet you got whatever you wanted.' They have no idea.”

“Well, for some people, being an only child is probably the best gig in the world. But not for me. Not only was I
not
spoiled but I was lonely, too. What good is your own room if all you want is somebody to be in it with you?”

She just shook her head. “I know exactly how you feel.”

“The world's a big place,” I said.

“Sometimes I feel like I'm the only person in it.”

I couldn't have said it better myself. I am surrounded by people all the time. I know the entire town, for pete's sake. But there are times when it's as if I'm the only one of my kind in it.

Krista appeared at our table, beaming down at me. I think my mother had told everybody in town that I was meeting with Stephanie today. “Torie,” she said. “What would you and your …
friend
like to drink?”

“Krista, this is my sister, Stephanie Connelly. Stephanie, this is Fraulein Krista,” I said.

“It is so nice to meet you!” Krista exclaimed, and shook Stephanie's hand.

“Nice to meet you, too.”

“I mean, it is really nice to meet you,” she said. “We all love Torie. I just want you to know that if you're anything like your sister, we'll all love
you,
too.”

Stephanie laughed at Krista's remarks. And then she said, “I'll have a Dr Pepper.”

I just stared at her, blinking. “Yeah, me, too.” Krista winked at me and went back to the kitchen to get our drinks.

“So,” I began. “Tell me about yourself.”

“I'm a teacher.”

“Really? What do you teach?”

“History.”

“History. Of course you do,” I said.

“I have a daughter, she's three and a half. I live in St. Louis right now, but I grew up in Arnold.”

“That close,” I said. “Jesus.”

“I know,” she said, and looked at her hands. “Oh, I brought some pictures to show you. I bore everybody to tears with pictures. But I love them.”

“Funny, I brought pictures, too.”

And that was that. We laughed and started showing each other pictures, both of us talking about a million miles per second, and that was the way it went for close to two hours. We talked about our differences, too. Her favorite color is blue, whereas mine is purple. She loves to ski, and I've never even tried it. Our biggest difference is that she actually understood high school algebra and passed it in college. Okay, I passed it, too, but I hadn't understood it.

It seemed everybody and their uncle was just stopping by Fraulein Krista's for coffee or tea or some other little parcel of good-tasting things. It was probably because everybody wanted to see what Stephanie was like and if we were getting along. It's a shame to admit it, but I guess there just wasn't anything else better to do on a Wednesday afternoon than to snoop on me. I made a mental note to berate my mother and her big mouth.

But there was one guest I doubted was here for the sideshow. Bradley Chapel and his cameraman, Kyle, came in and sat down in the booth catercorner from us. Stephanie noticed my attention shift, and she turned and looked.

“Somebody else that you know?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Although not all that well.”

Stephanie's attention seemed to fixate on her empty glass. In a matter of seconds, it was as if she were someplace else.

“Is there something wrong?” I asked.

“No,” she said. “Not at all. A personal matter that keeps popping up in my mind.”

“Oh,” I said. I would have offered to hear what was on her mind, but I wasn't sure if that would be appropriate, considering we were still in the early stages of our relationship.

“Well, it's been great,” she said suddenly. “We had today off for grade day at my district. I've got to get home and actually do some grades.”

“Okay,” I said. “I'll have copies made of the pictures you asked for.”

“And I'll have some made for you,” she said, and smiled. She hesitated a moment. “You are exactly like I thought you would be.”

“Is that a good thing?” I asked, laughing.

“Yes,” she said. “It's a good thing.”

“So…” I began, unsure of what to say. “Are we going to see each other again?”

She nodded her head. “I hope so! I want my daughter to meet her cousins,” she said.

“Great, maybe you and your family could come down for dinner sometime?”

“We'd love to,” she said. “I'll call you.”

With that, she picked up her package of pictures and exited. Mr. Chapel happened to see her as she walked by, and he glanced up from his menu and saw me staring at him. I couldn't help myself—I looked at his shoes. They were expensive shoes and looked as though they'd never been worn before. What did he do—wash them?

“Can I help you with something, Mrs. O'Shea?” he asked. Kyle, who had a ketchup-dripping french fry hanging out of his mouth, turned around and waved.

“You're still in town?” I asked. “Don't you have a life?”

“I'm leaving Friday,” he said. “But I'll still be around until I get everything I need for the story.”

“It wouldn't be because the sheriff has asked you to stick close by, would it?”

His expression turned from piety to distaste in a millisecond. “What are you suggesting?”

“Nothing,” I said, and finished my soda. I stood up to leave.

“Mr. Ketchum had some interesting things to say about exactly what Professor Lahrs uncovered when he was diving,” he said.

“Like what?” I asked.

“Well, now that's for me to know and for you to find out.”

I was more angry with myself for walking into that than I was at Mr. Chapel for being such an arrogant twit. I grabbed my crutches.

“Good day, Mrs. O'Shea,” he said as I walked by.

What I wouldn't have given just to whop him with one of my crutches. But what would that solve? Nothing. “Yeah, whatever.”

Nineteen

I went to my office after having lunch with my newfound sister. I had a few things to look up, but I could not stop thinking about Mr. Chapel's last words to me at Fraulein Krista's. I tried pushing them to the back of my mind and began opening the mail that had arrived while I was at lunch. I logged on to the Internet to check my e-mail. There was a response from Ian in Tennessee.

Torie,

Took me several hours to find the records, but I eventually found them in a private collection of a man who collects all things dealing with the Mississippi and the steamboat era! I was beginning to think that I would have to tell you that I'd found nothing. Your girl, Jessica E. Huntleigh, was on board a ship called the
Louisiana Purchase
and switched boats after a two-day layover. However, there was nothing wrong with the
Louisiana Purchase.
It simply docked to let off passengers and then went on its way to St. Louis, and eventually Minnesota—I'm assuming to Minneapolis. So not sure where you got your info or why you think the
Purchase
had broken down, but she didn't. Let me know if I can get anything else for you.