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CHAPTER NINE
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. “1st 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 1st Street just south of E.
Avenue. Out front is E, go left to get to 1st. 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 4th 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 9th 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 4th 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.
#
to be continued... |
