Authors: Terri-Lynne Defino
Charlie stopped short at the hospital door sliding open at his approach.
Existed in.
The words echoed ear to ear. He took a deep breath, let the notion settle. Existing was not living. He existed with Gina, for children who would grow up and leave him wondering what, exactly, he’d do without them to fill his days. Everything he did was for them. What did he do for himself? Until Johanna arrived in Bitterly, the answer had been nothing. He’d been sleepwalking through his own life for years. Now he was awake and he wasn’t going back to sleep again.
“Could you step through, sir?” the receptionist called from her desk. “That’s a lot of January coming in.”
“Oh, sorry.” Charlie strode forward, each step more determined than the last. Johanna might be afraid. She could well choose to go back to Cape May and her anonymous life there, but this time, he would fight for her. For them.
“Can you tell me how I reach Julietta Coco’s room?” he asked the receptionist.
“Are you a family member?”
“I’m Charlie McCallan,” he said. “Her sister’s…husband. She’s waiting for me to pick her up.”
* * * *
The elevator door slid open to reveal Johanna sitting at a table, squinting at a pile of papers there and sipping at a can of soda. The ding of the doors lifted her head and she was smiling, rising to greet him. Charlie tried to measure his steps and failed. Lifting her playfully off the ground, he kissed her and set her back onto her feet.
“How’s Julietta?”
“Aside from kicking me out earlier, her old self. Are those for her?”
“I thought it would be a nice gesture,” he said. “Where is she?”
Johanna grinned evilly. “In there.” She pointed. “With Efan.”
“Eevan?”
“Long story short, we’ve all been calling him by the wrong name. Efan is actually Eevan and he just asked my baby sister to marry him.”
Charlie’s jaw dropped. “No way.”
“And she said yes. But don’t tell my sisters. Let Jules.”
“It’s so…soon.”
“Not everyone takes twenty years to figure things out.” Johanna laughed and pulled out of his arms. “I’ll leave those with the nurse’s station, and then we can go.”
“Oh, the flowers. Yes.” Charlie handed them to her. “Want me to gather these papers up for you?”
“Sure, thanks. I’ll be right back.”
Charlie gathered the printouts. Johanna hadn’t kissed him the way he hoped she would, but she didn’t pull away from his embrace either. The nebulous grasp he had on whatever was going on between them slipped but he grabbed it back again. Slow and steady wins the race. He focused on the file of hospital records and legal proceedings, and pictures he quickly covered as Johanna approached. He closed the folder, tucking it under his arm so he could help her on with her coat.
“So, what is all this?” he asked as they walked. “Anything useful?”
“Yes and no,” she answered. “There’s a whole lot of information, but most of it raises more questions. There’s so much more to tell you, Charlie, like my mother didn’t die in the accident, but ended up in a psychiatric facility in New Hampshire that no longer exists.”
“That’s big.”
“I know, and there’s more. Gram and Poppy got a huge settlement from the man who caused the accident that killed my father.”
“How huge?”
“$1.5 million. And there’s more.”
“More?”
“So much more. I’ll tell you about it on the way home. Actually…” Johanna looked up at him, a little of the mischief that had been turning him to mush since they were kids flashed in her eyes. “What do you have planned for the rest of the day?”
“Nothing. Well, eating at some point. I’m all yours.”
“How do you feel about doing some detective work?”
“Sounds like more fun than watching a movie.”
“Good. Because I’m pretty sure there are a few answers hiding in the house, and I want to start with finding a checkbook Julietta mentioned. You can help me.”
“I live to serve.”
Charlie offered her his hand. Johanna looked at it a moment, then took it, her fingers meshing with his like puzzle pieces fitting.
* * * *
Johanna picked up the note from the table.
I had to go back to New York. Please tell Jules I’m sorry. Bring her her computer, books, and some cards or something over to her tonight. If you need me, call. Otherwise, I’ll see you in a day or two. Love you, Nina.
Johanna put the note back onto the table and finished shucking off her coat. When she asked Charlie to come home with her, she thought Nina would be there too. Being alone with him was dangerous. When she saw him at the hospital, the instant joy overwhelmed her—until he lifted her in his arms and kissed her the way she’d been longing for since midnight on the rooftop in Great Barrington. The instant saturation of lust and love made caution a notion too ridiculous to contemplate, but one she forced to see reason. Once she gave into it, there was no going back, and Johanna needed the option kept open.
Charlie ducked into the bathroom while she hung their coats up. Glad as she was that Emma’s coat wasn’t there too, Johanna couldn’t help selfishly wishing her sister would show up unannounced and save her from succumbing to an empty house, the man she loved, and a whole night of both. Would it be so bad to pull her away from her husband? Her boys? To ask for help searching for clues? She dug her phone from her pocket.
“Damn,” she whispered when the message kicked on. The bathroom door opened. Her heart banged with it. Who would save her now?
“Hey, Emma,” she said. “It’s Johanna. Call me when you get this message.”
“The boys have a soccer club meeting today,” Charlie told her as she hung up. “I got Charlotte to take Tony for me.”
“Oh, Charlotte’s home?” Johanna busied herself putting the kettle on. “When did she get back from New Paltz?”
“Yesterday.”
Tea bags. Sugar. Milk. Or did he prefer lemon? Did he even like tea? Johanna’s brain whirred. He was so near, so dear, so damned irresistible. And soccer-club meeting or not, why the hell didn’t Emma answer her phone?
“Johanna.” He leaned elbows to the counter. “Jo?”
She stopped fiddling and looked at him.
“It’s fine,” he said.
“What’s fine?”
“I didn’t come here expecting anything more than digging into your grandmother’s old bank statements and maybe some dinner.”
The teakettle whistled. Johanna took it off the heat, grimacing. “I’m that obvious?”
“I’m not used to seeing you flustered.” He came to her side of the counter, took her hands and kissed first one, then the other. Charlie looked at them a long time before meeting her eyes. “It’s good to know I have that effect on you.”
“You have no idea.”
He laughed softly. “I think I might. Look, Jo. I know everything changed after New Year’s Eve—”
“It didn’t change,” she said. “It’s just…”
“I know what it’s just. Reality’s a bitch, Jo, but you keep letting it spin you rather than you spinning it.” He laughed softly. “Wild Johanna Coco. Who would have ever thought you could be so cautious?”
Cautious?
Of all the adjectives in the English language, caution was never one in her own lexicon. She was one of the wild Coco girls. Wildest of them all, by popular account. She’d gone skydiving for her thirtieth birthday, for heaven’s sake. And there was the whole living in Brooklyn, Boston, even Austin, Texas, for a little while, travelling all over Europe in between moves with only a backpack and enough money for a plane ticket home.
She opened her mouth to tell him he was mistaken, but Charlie kissed her and the words caught in her throat. Her body relaxed even as the desire intensified. Johanna trembled with wanting, and still she felt the fight or flight reflex battling to be obeyed.
Charlie’s hands drifted lazily from face to breasts to waist. He drew her closer, kissed her harder, and let her go.
“To be continued,” he said. “Where do you want to start looking for the checkbook?”
* * * *
Utensils. Flatware. Pens and pencils and sticky-notepads. The kitchen drawers were crammed full of stuff Johanna was close to certain no one used anymore. Thumbtacks. Old batteries. Razor blades in their paper and cardboard shrouds that never saved anyone from being sliced. She found a calculator they’d gotten free when Gram took them to buy notebooks Johanna’s senior year in high school, still in the package. Pulling out the dish towels for the third time, Johanna’s hand landed on something squished up and halfway caught in the back of the drawer. Not hidden, just haphazard. Gram’s checkbook.
“Charlie, look.” She held it up. He abandoned the plastic bin of old paint sample cards and receipts he’d been going through and scrambled to his feet.
“Open it.”
“I’m…kind of scared.”
“Of what? Being rich?”
She laughed. “Well, if you put it that way…” Johanna opened the checkbook, scanned the register and the numbers there. “Holy shit.”
“What?”
She handed him the register, pointed to the last balance.
“Holy shit.”
“How does a sweet old lady in Bitterly, Connecticut hide that kind of cash?”
“By not keeping it in Bitterly.” Charlie showed her the checks. “The account was opened in Danbury. That’s a lot of money to keep in a checking account.”
“Where else is she going to keep it?”
“Stocks? Bonds? Some kind of mutual fund? I don’t know. There has to be an accountant involved somewhere.”
“Knowing Gram, she just put it all in a checking account and let it go at that.”
“That does sound like Addie.” Charlie blew out a deep breath, thumbed through the register. “This account doesn’t look like it was used much. See that? First page of the register goes all the way back to 1999.”
Johanna took the checkbook back. “You’re right. The most recent entries are…”
November 14, 2013. $549. Memo: water heater.
September 12, 2013. $316. Memo: trees…
All the hair on Johanna’s body stood on end. Her cheeks burned. Farther back, a few entries for odd amounts, random purchases, as if Gram only used the account to keep it active. Until March, 2005.
March 15, 2005. $4,265. WML.
February 15, 2005. $4,265 WML
“Charlie?”
January, December, November. 2005, 2004…03…02…all the way back to the very first entry in the register. The amount lowered as it went back in time. $3,565. $3,065. $2,765. There were other checks in between, written for other amounts, but in the memo, it was always the same: WML.
“This isn’t the checkbook Julietta was talking about,” she said. “What is WML?”
“We might be able to call the bank.” He looked at his watch. “Well, tomorrow.”
“Would it say on a bank statement, or…the canceled checks.”
“Johanna, hang on!”
But she could not wait. She flew down the basement steps. Something was building, like a wave or an explosion. WML. Payments, the same day every month, like rent. Whose rent would Gram and Pop be paying? For who else but Carolina?
She found the boxes of canceled checks she and her sisters had put in the throw-it-out pile. Charlie came more slowly down the steps. Johanna handed him several boxes.
“These aren’t the same bank account,” he said after checking each one. “These are from the bank in town.”
“How many bank accounts did they have?” She showed him the box in her hand. “This one is some bank out in Michigan.”
“Just look for checks from Danbury Savings.”
They sifted through boxes. The dust made Johanna’s eyes itch and her nose stuff up.
“Here it is.” Charlie motioned her closer. He showed Johanna the check on top. It was old. Older than the checkbook and register she’d found in the drawer.
“1992,” she said. “Look, Charlie. It’s made out to the Cully Mountain Convalescent Facility. $698. This must be for my mom’s rent. Is it called rent?”
“I have no idea. Here.” He handed her another box. “This one is more recent. Check it.”
The canceled check on top was dated January 15, 2001. It was made out to Wolf Moon Lodge, in the amount of $1,985. Johanna’s breath caught.
“WML,” she said. “Wolf Moon Lodge. This is it.” She sifted through them, went back in time. 2001. 2000. 1999. 1998. Every month on the fifteenth, another check to Wolf Moon Lodge, until—
June 26, 1997. A check for $885, made out to Cully Mountain.
“It must have changed names,” Johanna said aloud. “She was there. All along. So many years. For all I know, she’s there still. Oh, Charlie.”
Johanna buried her face into his chest, oblivious to the dust in his clothes. He held her close, rocked her gently. In the darkness behind her lids, she saw her mother. Alone. Lonely. Wondering why her daughters never came to see her. Had she thought them dead, as they all suspected she was?
“Why didn’t they ever tell us?” she choked. Why didn’t we ever ask?
“I wish I knew.” He put her from him, bent to her level. “I think we have enough for now. Let’s go upstairs and get on-line, see if Wolf Moon Lodge still exists.”
* * * *
Vanished. Dead. Erased. Happy. Stories told. Wishes made. All the same wish. And separate. Not the kind that sparkles up from a well for the price of a penny, or one granted by stars and birthday candles. This requires a different kind of magic. The rarest kind. It needs hope and love and sacrifice. Like Tinkerbelle, it needs belief. It demands truth, that hardest of things, that cannot remain buried forever, only long enough.
A Partridge in a Pear Tree
Johanna called Nina first.
“I found Mom,” she said, and the rest spilled out. Next she called Emma, and, thank goodness, reached her. The three of them went to the hospital the following afternoon and, after consulting with Dr. Sam, told Julietta what they knew.
“Is she still there?” Julietta asked.
“We didn’t call,” Johanna answered. “We thought it would be best to find out together. But Charlie looked the place up. It still exists as a well-respected facility.”
“It is,” Dr. Sam agreed. “I wondered if Wolf Moon Lodge was the place you were looking for when Julietta told me Cully Mountain was in Killian. I was going to call, see what I could discover. You beat me to it.”