Read One Lane Bridge: A Novel Online
Authors: Don Reid
One Lane Bridge: A Novel (14 page)
That night, Friday night, was one of the longest and most miserable nights of his life. He couldn’t eat. He couldn’t sleep. And every time he looked at Karlie, he was reminded that she and Jack had plotted against him. When did they talk? What did they say? They were certainly on the same page about this whole Route 814 matter. Maybe they were also plotting to have him committed. And he was only half joking about that prospect.
He didn’t feel like talking, so he spent most of his evening in the basement. Since he still hadn’t heard anything from Lavern, he got on his computer for about an hour and tried to look up birth certificate information himself. This turned out to be in vain. He kept running into obstacles—forms to fill out or disclaimers that told him that that kind of personal information could only be given to family members who could prove their kinship. He was sure Lavern had the experience to get around those obstacles, or at least he was hoping she could. Maybe he was putting too much stock in
her
. Maybe she was just a nice little lady with a high curiosity threshold who was leading him on for her own personal adventure. Maybe she was reporting everything they had talked about to Karlie and Jack. Maybe she and her Dr. Annata were the ones who would finally have him strapped and straitjacketed and hauled to the nearest loony bin in town. Or maybe he was just growing more paranoid with each passing minute.
In all honesty, he felt Lavern Justice was on the level. But he had to pinch himself occasionally to wake himself up and remind his tired, weary alter ego that she was the only friend he had where all of this was concerned. Here was a woman just a few years short of twice his age whom he had only known for three days—and she was the only person he could depend on. The only one who would help him. How had he gotten himself into this quagmire that had practically destroyed all avenues of communication between him and his wife and his best friend? He wanted out of the mess, but he had no idea how to achieve that. He also wanted to see the Clems again to be assured all was well by the bridge. He didn’t know how to do that either.
He spent the best part of the night on the patio, looking at the stars and dozing. It wasn’t until 2:00 a.m., time for Lizzie’s pill, that he got up and went to bed. He was sure Karlie heard him, but she never said a word.
Saturday morning in the Wickman household was pretty much like any weekday morning. Karlie and J. D. got up at the same time and usually went to different restaurants around nine. This Saturday Karlie was going downtown, and he was going to the west end. All this had been planned earlier in the week. Little else was discussed over the breakfast table. As she was clearing the table she did finally say, “Have you talked to Jack lately?”
That was all he needed to confirm what he already knew. But he held his tongue and his temper. Even though he felt betrayed and angry, he knew in his heart Jack and Karlie were doing it for love.
“He called me yesterday.”
“And?”
“And he told me you two had talked and decided I should take a trip with him for a couple of days to a football game, and that maybe then I would come to my senses and forget all about this crazy idea of those people out on Route 814.” J. D. spoke plainly, but the words had a bite to them that didn’t require an angry tone.
As hard as Karlie tossed the plates into the sink, it was a wonder they didn’t shatter. “J. D., what makes you strike out at me like that? If Jack told you that, and I don’t think he did, it was a good idea either way. Why
don’t
you leave for a couple of days? You sure aren’t happy here.”
“If I do, it won’t be with Jack. I’ll be by myself.” This time, he spoke sharply. And he left the table and went upstairs to finish dressing. When he came back down, she had gone.
Just as he was putting on his sport coat and opening the back door, the phone rang. He looked at the caller ID before answering, sure that it was Karlie. It was a number he didn’t recognize. He picked it up after the second ring.
“Hello.”
“J. D.? This is Lavern Justice.”
“I’ve been waiting on your call. How did things go?”
“I think we should talk. Where’s a good place, and what’s a good time?”
“How about the same restaurant at ten? I’ll have the coffee hot and the booth empty.”
“Sounds good. But make mine decaf this time. That real stuff gives me palpitations. And you make it strong!”
“Made to order, Ms. Justice. See you at ten.”
His mood brightened. Maybe he was about to get some information that would answer lingering questions about who Lizzie Clem was and why she was popping up in his life. And if she was real. And if she was alive. And all the other
if
s that had kept him awake for the past week. His mind was tired, but he felt he was on the verge of relief.
J. D. was sitting in the booth, reading the Saturday morning paper, two empty cups in front of him, when the door opened at precisely 10:00 a.m. and the small and erect Lavern came through it with a breeze. She walked briskly to the booth and slid in as he stood to greet her.
“Sit down. Sit down. You don’t have to stand up for me.”
She appeared drawn, and with her hair pulled tightly back from her face she looked her age for the first time. She was smiling, but only with her mouth—the smile never reached her eyes. As he sat back down, she sighed heavily and reached for the empty cup. “There’s nothing in here.”
“It’s coming,” he assured her. He didn’t want to ask her if she had been up all night researching and allude to the fact that she looked less than perky and alert. So he ignored that line of conversation altogether and simply said, “How are you this morning?”
“Alive, grouchy, and mean as ever.”
“I hope you have good news … although I’ll admit I’m not sure what I’m expecting.”
“I have news, but I’m not sure if it’s good. Let me tell you a little about public records. They are reliable
if
you can find them. They aren’t always easy to locate. This Elizabeth Clem, and I’m only assuming her name is Elizabeth, is a tough nut.”
“I can’t be sure. Lizzie is all I know.”
“Birth certificate laws vary from state to state. There were no federal standards in the early twentieth century when Elizabeth was born. I went online first, but to be honest, J. D.—and you probably know this—you can’t always depend on the records you find online for anything. But the NCHS had certain records for live births back then.”
“Wait a minute. What’s NCHS?”
“National Center for Health Statistics. That was and is the official standard, but only if the individual states complied. In reality, it took a while for all the states to get in line with their registration. The northeastern states were the first, and it wasn’t until the 1930s that it got real strict. And we’re talking about a birth that took place in rural North Carolina in 1926.”
“So the bottom line is …”
“The bottom line is, we could have missed it by four, five, six, seven years.”
“Did you check all the courthouses in the state?”
“As well as I could. I checked state records and all the surrounding county records. Today you have a record of every birth, every marriage, every death. Marriage and death records are more accurate and more likely to be recorded. As you can imagine, you could have had a birth back in those days on a farm thirty miles from nowhere without even a doctor in attendance. Ah, here’s the girl with my coffee. But you know, honey, I’ve changed my mind. I don’t think I want any right now.”
The conversation came to a complete halt while Marge filled just J. D.’s cup and set the pot on the table. As soon as she left, Lavern Justice continued.
“The record of choice in those days and the years earlier was the family Bible. A page from the family Bible is just as binding and legal as a registered birth certificate. Unfortunately, we don’t have that either. You don’t have her family Bible, do you?”
“No. I don’t even know if there was one.”
“Can you get one? There might be one in the house.”
J. D. didn’t want to tell her that he was unable to get to the house the last time he tried. “I’ll see.”
“If you can, that would be great. Just having that would tell you what you wanted to know. And I guess what you want to know is that this person is real and not a figment of your overworked imagination. Is that what we’re trying to prove here?”
“I suppose so, Lavern. I’m not real sure anymore.”
“Anyway, the truth of the matter is that some people have gone through life never needing a birth certificate. They got a job, got married, got a driver’s license, and were never asked for it. Have you ever been asked for your birth certificate?”
“Come to think of it, no, I haven’t.”
“And you probably never will be unless you try to get a passport. That’s the one time it usually comes up.”
“How about a social security card? Don’t you need one to get a number?”
“Nope.”
“Then how about a marriage license? “
“Nope.”
“I don’t mean do you need a birth certificate to get one. I mean isn’t there some record at the license bureau if she got married?”
“
If
she got married. And then, what county or city or small town? It may take you weeks to research all that. And what do you have when you’re through?”
“I would have proof that this woman lived. Or maybe proof that she died. Okay, let’s say she was born in the mountains with no record of her birth and she never got married, but if she died, there has to be a death certificate.”
“If she’s dead.” Lavern looked him coldly in the eye. “J. D., I don’t think she’s dead.”
A chill went through him that even Marge’s coffee couldn’t warm. He felt the hairs on his arms and neck tingle. Lizzie Clem might still be alive and living somewhere in this very town. He put his elbows on the table and his face in both his hands. He could feel his heart beating in his chest and temples, and he had to swallow before he spoke.
“Have you tried anything as simple as a phone book?”
“All the major cities in the southeast. Again, it will take weeks to check the entire country. And then they, too, are unreliable at best. You have unlisted numbers and unpublished numbers and, worst of all, cell phones. Do you realize how many people don’t have land lines in their homes anymore?”
J. D. wanted to say something, but his throat was dry and yielding to the dullness he felt in his brain. He began a sentence, but then thought better of it. “What about …”
“What about what?”
“I was just thinking about those pop-ups you get on the computer all time about finding old classmates or old boyfriends. What about those things?”
“You ever tried it?” she asked.
“No, I can’t say that I have.”
“Most of them are games. Remember, it’s the Internet.”
They sat in silence, deep in thought. J. D. refilled his cup, and Lavern shook off the offer. They listened without hearing the old music that was playing on the sound system in the back office. It was J. D.’s favorite kind of music. The Pied Pipers were singing Johnny Mercer’s “Dream.” Lavern never took her eyes off him.
“There’s something you’re not telling me,” she said.
“Yeah. I went back out there yesterday evening. The bridge was gone. I couldn’t get across.”
“Try again.”
“Do you want to go with me?”
“I thought you had to go alone.”
“So did I, but I
was
alone and nothing happened. But … I don’t know. Maybe two people who believe will have better luck. I’m willing to try anything.”
“Thanks, but I don’t think so. I don’t feel like the trip. You go. And if you fail again, accept that it was meant to be. The Mission is over.”
“That’s the very word I thought of, but … it’s not enough. I have to know why. And in order to find that out, I have to know for sure the Clems are real.”
“J. D. Wickman, you’re a stubborn man. But that’s part of your charm. Don’t ever give it up. As for me, I’m going home. I’ll call you if anything comes up.”
And she was gone.
J. D. left shortly after and headed for the bridge. He had driven the van this morning and had transferred the chicken feed and tobacco and books and hoe from the TR3 just in case. Maybe he
had
hit on something about the faith of two people being stronger than that of one, but without Lavern, there was no way to know. His only chance now was to hope yesterday was an anomaly. Perhaps he would drive right across that one lane bridge the way he had the first time.
Yeah,
he thought to himself,
just like the first time.
