The Ruth Valley Missing (5 page)

He was silent for a
moment. “What is that supposed to mean?”

I rubbed my forehead
and sighed before answering. “We’re not together anymore, Dylan. Remember? I
broke up with you.”

“No, I remember you
being in one of your moods and telling me to leave.”

“One of my moods?”
There was a slight quiver in my voice. I didn’t let my anger show often, but
when it started to rise, it was difficult to disguise.

“You are so dramatic I
mean, seriously, you got mad at me and moved? Probably to an apartment with
more ‘character’.”

Dylan spat out that
last word. He never liked my old apartment, but I adored it. It had its issues,
but it was old and had history. It wasn’t like his spacious high rise loft, all
straight lines, black and white and impersonal.

“This is why we aren’t
together Dylan. You think everything is about you. I didn’t move because of
you, I moved for me. If you had shown as much interest in me as you do in, I
don’t know, your hair, you might understand why I left.”

“Well, whatever. I
can’t find my wingtips, and figured I left them at your place. Did you happen
to see them when you were packing?”

“Unbelievable. Don’t
call me again, Dylan.”

I ended the call,
deleted him from my contacts, and sat at the bottom of the church steps,
hitting myself in the head with my phone trying to figure out how I let myself
date him for so long.

“While a ringing phone
in church is a major faux pas, I don’t think you should be beating yourself in
the head over it.”

I looked up to see
Jack standing there.

“Not my finest hour.”

“At least you weren’t
sitting in the front.”

He flashed me a big
grin, and I couldn’t help but reciprocate. “This is true. Thanks to you.”

“Don’t mention it.
Everything alright?”

“Yeah, just...personal
stuff.”

“Man troubles. Got it.
Well, I’m gonna get back in there. You should, too. Don’t want the town
thinking you’re inconsiderate and a heathen.”

He winked before
heading up the steps. I stood, smoothed my skirt, and started to head back in. I
paused outside of the enormous, dark, wooden doors, shutting my phone off
before sliding it into my pocket and stepping inside.

I managed to get the
necessities I wanted Sunday afternoon, and all the luggage I brought with me
into the house by the end of the evening, so I was spending my Monday morning
cleaning, unpacking, and organizing. I could barely hear the voice yelling up
the stairs over the music blaring while I worked, but was expecting Jack to
come by with the paperwork, so I turned down my stereo and yelled back.

“Come on up!”

As I smoothed the new
bedding over the mattress, I looked up to see a man and woman.
 

Not Jack.

“Are you looking for
the Sheriff?”

The woman, wearing dark
slacks with a shirt and cardigan to match spoke first.

“No, Miss Quinn, we
came to see you.”

She let the statement
hang there, as she stood glancing about the room, her face expressionless.

“Is there something
wrong?”

The man, whose black
and white collar I now noticed, spoke up. “No, not at all. We just came around
to meet you. We do that with any new members of the town. I’m Father Michael
and this is Sister Marjorie.”

He extended his hand
as he introduced himself. I shook it, then turned towards Sister Marjorie, who
merely nodded in my direction.

“We just like to be
sure that anyone new here feels welcome and a part of the community.”

“Well, that’s very
nice. Word travels fast I guess.”

“Yes,” said Father
Michael, stifling a grin. “That, and you have a very loud phone.”

I tried to ignore the
flush I felt in my face. “Must be nice to have a small town where you visit all
the newcomers.”

My comment did not
seem to please the nun. “I take it you aren’t from a small town then?”

“No. I just moved from
New York. I grew up in a smaller city, but nothing like this.” I quickly added,
“I think it’s lovely here.”

Father Michael opened
his mouth, as if he was about to speak, but Marjorie beat him to it. “It is
lovely here. That is due in no small part to everyone’s involvement. Do you
have any interests that could be of assistance to the town?”

Although I found her
question to be rather pushy, particularly when it was obvious that I was barely
settled yet, I answered politely.

“I used to volunteer
with the hospital in the city actually. I’d be happy to help in any way I can.”

“That is excellent to
hear,” Father Michael jumped in, with a much kinder tone.

“Here.” Sister
Marjorie handed me an envelope. “Fill this out and drop it by the church this
week. We can find a place for you to help once we have a better idea of your
talents.”

I accepted the
envelope with a forced smile.
 

The three of us stood
in awkward silence. When I couldn’t handle it any longer, I spoke up.

“I’m sorry I don’t
have much to offer you both, but I am still just getting myself settled. I do
have some juice downstairs if you would like to stay for a glass.” I stood
there hoping I made the offer sound unattractive, but sincere.

“That would be—” Father
Michael began to answer but was quickly cut off.

“Thank you but that
isn’t necessary. We have other duties to attend to.”

“Of course. Some other
time.”

I followed them down
the stairs, the scent of lavender oil traveling with us, and watched the large
cross around Sister Marjorie’s neck sway as they both made their way out of the
door and down the walkway. As they walked away, Jack came walking up, pausing
to exchange a few words with the visitors then continuing up to my doorway.

“Making friends?”

I shrugged. “I’m not
so sure. I don’t think the nun liked me.”

“Awww, she’s all bark.
She used to run a school for troubled youth in her younger years. Good woman,
just very stern is all. I doubt it’s personal.”

“I hope not. The
priest seems nice.”

“Yeah, he’s alright, I
guess.”

“So...do you have the
papers?”

“Yes,” Jack smiled,
holding up a small stack of documents. “Here and ready for your signature.”

“Great. Come on in.
I’ll go find a pen.”

Jack stood in the
doorway, then looked across the lawn and hesitated. “That’s alright. You can
get them to me later. I need to get back up to the house to take care of a few
things.”

“I’ll bring them by
later then.”

“Good.” He walked away
somewhat abruptly, leaving me with the stack of documents in my hand, as well
as the envelope from Sister Marjorie. I shrugged, stepped back inside, and set
the leasing documents on the counter. I opened the envelope and walked upstairs
as I read the “Volunteer Application”. The questions ranged from interests and
schooling to current relationship status and medical history. It was oddly
personal, although I could find justification for each question if I really
tried.

Still, it was odd.

I set the application
on the bed, and walked over to the bathroom to run a bath as I continued to
clean the bedroom. Had I made a mistake moving here so far from what I was used
to?

I frowned as I
contemplated the possibility that this move could be a bad decision. It wasn’t
one that couldn’t be undone, but still. I went into the bathroom, undressed,
and lowered myself into the deep claw foot tub. As I leaned my head against the
edge of the cool porcelain, I noticed a little skylight above, the sky outside
heavy with dark clouds. I closed my eyes as rain began to fall, hitting the
roof with a gentle rhythmic beat. It was the most peaceful I’d felt in ages.

Maybe this wasn’t a
mistake. Odd didn’t have to mean bad, right?

I opened my eyes and
looked out into the bedroom at the Ferragamo wingtips sitting on the floor, a
reminder of what I left behind. No, I think odd was going to be just fine.

“Hiya, Jameson! You
gettin’ settled in?”

Emma greeted me,
overflowing with enthusiasm, as I entered the diner. It drew a bit more
attention to my presence than I wanted, but the warmth was appreciated.

“So far, so good.”

“I have a booth right
over there if you like.”

“Actually, I was
wondering if you would mind if I took some pictures?”

I held up my camera
bag, as if its bulky existence was enough of an explanation.

“I’m sure that’s fine.
What for?”

“It’s just a hobby. I
like to take pictures of, well, pretty much everything. The diner is so cute, I
was dying to take some photos last time I was in. Probably would have if I
hadn’t been so distracted by that meatloaf.”

Emma giggled. “Well,
go right ahead. Let me know if you need a cup of coffee or anything.”

“Actually, after I
take a few photos, I’d love a piece of apple pie. It’s not too early for that,
is it?”

“As far as I’m
concerned it can never be too early for pie or too late for bacon.”

I laughed as Emma
headed behind the counter. I knew I liked her.

It was mid-morning, so
there were only a few people in the diner, which is what I was hoping. I stood
next to a stool, opening my bag and attaching a lens to my camera. I stood
looking around, deciding what to shoot first. The light coming in the diner
windows made the chrome accents all around me sparkle. I walked around, framing
shots and quietly snapping away. I took photos of all the seemingly mundane
things around me; flatware, tables, salt and pepper shakers, Emma’s yellow
uniform as she leaned against a red booth.

When I felt I had
everything I wanted, I slid into an empty booth. Before I could even set my
camera down, Emma came up with a plate of warm apple pie.

“Did you want some
coffee with your pie?”

“That would be
perfect.”

She was back in a
flash with a mug full of coffee and cream on the side. She took a quick look
around, then slid in the seat opposite me, sitting on her leg and leaning
forward.

“So, are you a
photographer?”

I laughed and shook my
head. “I wouldn’t say that. I’ve sold some work, but it’s really just a hobby.
This town has so much character, I feel like I’ll have my face behind the
camera all the time.”

“You think so?”

“Definitely. Don’t
you?”

Emma crinkled her
nose. “It’s alright, I guess. I just don’t imagine thinking much of it when
you’ve lived in a big city.”

“Well, you know, grass
is always greener. Except in this case, my grass was grey alleys that smelled
like urine. So, the grass really is greener here.”

Emma covered her
mouth, her eyes wide, then giggled. “You’re funny, Jameson.”

“My friends call me
James.”

“James it is then,”
she said, stretching out my name as if to emphasize her choice to use it.

“Will you bring the
pictures you took by sometime?”

“Of course.” I grabbed
my camera and took the lens cap off, aiming it at Emma. As I did, she tilted
her head to one side and gave me a big smile, showing off the dimples in her
rosy cheeks. “That one is going to be super cute.”

She clapped her hands
together and hopped out of the booth. “I gotta get back to work. Holler if you
need a refill on your coffee.”

“Thanks.”

I sat eating my pie
and staring out the window, deciding where to explore next.

“Is this seat taken,
Miss Quinn?”

I looked up at the
muddy green eyes staring down at me, surprised to see Father Michael standing
there.

“No,” I swallowed,
wondering if there was any special etiquette when eating with a priest.
“Please, sit.”

Emma came over with a
mug of coffee before he could ask. “Thank you, Emma. How’s your family?”

“Good, Father. Mostly.
Momma has a cold, but she is getting better. The sisters came by to see her a
few days ago.”

“Good, good.”

Emma slipped away as
Father Michael sipped his coffee.

“So, Father, what can
I do for you?”

“Michael. Or Mike,
actually. I’ve given up on getting most of the locals to be less formal, but
there’s still hope with you.”

“Well, in that case, Mike,
call me Jameson. Or James, if you prefer.”

“Sounds like a deal.”

I smiled, feeling
slightly less unnerved at sitting across from his black and white collar, but
still wondering why he was here. As if on cue, he continued, “I just wanted to
apologize for our unexpected visit the other day. The church here is great,
very involved, but sometimes the methods can be a little, abrupt, I guess? They
mean well, though. Just didn’t want you to be scared off.”