Chapter 26

“Melender? Are you up?”

“Just a moment, please.” Shoving her hair from her eyes, Melender tossed back the bedding, then padded to the door to answer Mrs. Trent’s query. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m sorry to wake you when I know you have work tonight, but there’s someone to see you,” Mrs. Trent said.

“Is it Brogan?” Only he knew where she was staying.

“No, it’s a young woman. She wouldn’t give her name.” Mrs. Trent smoothed back a strand of hair. “She seems rather distressed, so I don’t think she’s a reporter.”

If Mrs. Trent didn’t think she was after a story, then Melender would see what the woman wanted. “Okay, let me get dressed, and I’ll be right up.”

Mrs. Trent nodded, then retreated upstairs. Melender hurriedly dressed, splashing water on her face to chase away the last vestiges of sleep and her dream of Brogan riding a white horse to rescue her from the clutches of a shadowy figure wearing a black cape.

As she rounded the stairs, she overheard Mrs. Trent and the unknown visitor talking about the possibility of a break in the hot, humid stretch of weather that had blanketed the region. Melender stopped abruptly as the young woman dressed in jean shorties and a stomach-skimming black t-shirt locked eyes with her.

“Hello, Melender.”

Melender took a step back. “Jillian?” With her mass of dark blonde hair held back from her face with a headband, her cousin bore a strong resemblance to a young Ruby.

“It’s been a long time.” Jillian held a plastic grocery bag in one hand, her smartphone in the other. Her slender frame stretched as taut as a dulcimer string. “I thought it was time we had a little chat.”

“Sure.” Melender tried to keep the surprise from her voice and expression, but shock at seeing her cousin coursed through her body. She’d written numerous letters to Jillian over the years, once her cousin had gotten old enough to respond, but had never heard a peep. Melender didn’t know whether Ruby and Quentin actually passed along her missives or if Jillian had simply chosen to either not read or response to them.

“With the fan on, it won’t be too hot on the back porch for you two to sit and talk,” Mrs. Trent interjected.

Melender smiled at her hostess. “Is that okay with you, Jillian?”

Jillian shrugged.

“Do you want something to drink?” Melender asked.

Jillian shook her head.

“Then let’s go out there.” Melender led the way through the kitchen to the covered porch. With the overhead fan on and a breeze through the open windows, the setting was tolerable.

Melender took a seat on the mustard-colored sofa while Jillian selected a chair at a right angle to her. Setting her phone on a side table, Jillian placed the bag on her lap but didn’t say anything.

The adoring three-year-old who followed her around the house begging Melender to play with her had vanished. In her place was a brittle twenty-one-year-old with haunted eyes. But the undercurrent emanating from Jillian’s entire being was one of loneliness and abandonment.

Melender allowed the silence to build by counting to sixty as slow as she could. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you. You’re so grown up now.”

Her words galvanized the younger woman, who straightened in the chair. Raising her chin to gaze directly at Melender, she said, “Seventeen years will do that to a person.” She ran her eyes up and down the length of Melender. “I must say, I thought you would come out of prison looking older, more worn out. But here you are, appearing happy and healthy.”

“Having a clean conscious will do that for a person.” Melender smiled, consciously mimicking her cousin’s words.

“Mother said despite your conviction and prison term you still clung to your innocence.” She cocked her head. “But then Mother was never in your corner, was she? She never has a good thing to say about you.”

Melender ignored the taunt and spoke instead to the hurt lurking beneath the surface of Jillian. “Do you remember your favorite song when you were three?”

“No.” Jillian narrowed her eyes. “Why on earth should I remember something as mundane as my favorite song as a preschooler?”

“It was the only thing that calmed you when you were scared.” Maybe their connection hadn’t been totally broken and could be repaired. She’d loved Jillian and Jesse as fiercely as if they’d been her siblings.

“One night when you were a little girl, there was a terrible early summer thunderstorm with lots of lightning and even some hail. You came racing into my room, your eyes as big as saucers, and dove under the covers of my bed.”

Melender paused to gauge how the young woman would react to the childhood memory, but the stony face staring back at her gave no indication she recalled the night in question. While she didn’t know why Jillian had come to see her, she wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to get Jillian to talk about the night her brother disappeared.

“Is that so?” Jillian checked her smartphone.

Melender pulled her trump card. “Yes. The only thing that would calm you down was my singing.”

Jillian barely glanced up from the small screen, her thumbs busy tapping out a staccato rhythm. “What, you think we had some bonding moment over ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’?”

Instead of replying, Melender simply sang. “The wind doth blow today, my love.”

Jillian froze, her head still down and her hair brushing her cheek as Melender continued.

“And a few small drops of rain, I never had but one true-love.”

After that line, Jillian set her phone down on the table, her head still bent.

“In cold grave she was lain, I’ll do as much for my true-love.”

With her voice, Melender tried to recreate the same peace as she had all those years ago to a scared little girl. She’d sang that song to Jillian the morning Jesse’s disappearance was discovered, and every night afterward to lull her to sleep until Melender’s arrest.

As the last note drifted off, Jillian raised her head, her eyes clouded with tears, her expression one of such longing and grief that Melender felt intrusive witnessing the look. Without thinking, she rose to wrap the younger woman in her arms. Jillian stiffened immediately, her body resisting Melender’s comfort. But as Melender started to remove her arms, Jillian reached up and grabbed her shoulders, relaxing against Melender as sobs racked her body. Melender maintained her awkward position of leaning over Jillian, who stayed seated in the chair, murmuring soothing sounds and rubbing the younger woman’s back.

Jillian pulled away, swiping at her tear-stained cheeks with the back of her hand. “I didn’t know that was you.”

Melender dropped into the chair beside her as Jillian drew in a shuddering breath.

“I used to dream about someone, an older girl who had silvery hair and the voice of an angel,” Jillian whispered. “In my dreams, she would sing that song to me, and all my fears would dissipate like the fog on a sunny morning.”

“I’m glad.” A tightness eased in Melender’s chest at Jillian’s words. Finally, something from her past had a positive impact instead of a negative one. She hadn’t realized how much she’d been longing for such an encounter as a reminder of who she was before she became a convicted murderer.

“Mother never…” Jillian’s voice hitched on another sob. “She never told me it was you who sang to me, the one I kept dreaming about after Jesse left us.”

Melender patted her shoulder.

“I hated you for taking away my little brother.” Jillian slumped against the back of her chair. “A couple of days ago, I heard Dad on the phone tell someone where you were staying, and I had to come see you to tell you that.” More tears trickled down her cheeks. “I wanted to make you tell me where you hid Jesse so we could be a real family again.”

“Oh, Jilly. I’m so very sorry.” The childhood nickname slipped out as if Melender were seventeen again and Jillian three. “I would never harm Jesse. I don’t know where he is.”

“I think, deep down, I’ve always known that.” Jillian suddenly thrust the bag into Melender’s hands. “That’s why I kept this hidden for you.”

Melender longed to turn the conversation back to Jesse and the night he disappeared but instead reached into the bag and pulled out a tattered notebook. “This isn’t…”

“Even as a preschooler, I knew how much this notebook meant to you.” Jillian touched the cover. “When you left—I mean, when you were arrested—I took it from your room. I couldn’t read it, but it was yours, something you treasured. I used to sleep with it underneath my bed.”

Melender opened the notebook with trembling hands. Sudie’s childish print proclaimed this book as belonging to her great-granddaughter, Melender Harman. She could picture Sudie sitting in the fading light on her front porch, singing softly as she labored to write down the lyrics to those mountain folk songs she loved so much. Leafing through the book, she paused to read the first few lines of “I Am a Pilgrim.”

I am a pilgrim and a stranger

Traveling through this wearisome land

I’ve got a home in that yonder city, good Lord.

In her mind, Sudie’s lovely alto voice sang the lyrics, the cadence making them come alive with purpose. Brushing back a tear, she turned the page to “Meet Me by the Moonlight.”

Meet me by the moonlight, oh meet me

Meet me by the moonlight alone, Lord, Lord

I have a sad story to tell you

All down by the moonlight alone.

She mouthed the words and smiled, feeling her great-grandmother’s presence like she hadn’t in nearly two decades.

“Those are your grandmother’s songs, aren’t they?”

“These are your great-grandmother’s songs too.” Melender closed the notebook, smoothing the cover with her hand. “I didn’t want to forget the sweet memories of her singing them to me. I could see she was becoming frailer, so I asked her to write down the lyrics to as many of her favorite mountain songs as she could. I like to think she understood it was my way of keeping her memory alive and the music of my heart forever.”

She looked at Jillian, tears welling inside her. “I can’t thank you enough for keeping this safe for me.”

Jillian averted her eyes. “Last week, one of my earrings fell behind my dresser, and when I moved it to get the jewelry, I found the notebook. I must have shoved it behind the dresser years ago.” She lifted her gaze from her hands and looked at Melender, a tear trailing down her cheek. “I nearly burned it but then thought it might be more satisfying to rip it to shreds in front of you. Can you forgive me for such an awful thought?”

“Yes, of course.” Melender touched Jillian’s arm. “I’m glad you didn’t do either of those things.”

Jillian drew in a deep breath. “There’s more. That’s not the main reason I didn’t destroy it. After I found the notebook, a nightmare I haven’t had since I was a child came back. Jesse’s crying and Jared’s shouting at me to give Jesse his stuffed rabbit.”

This was probably nothing more than a young girl’s hazy memories swirling with her fears, so Melender tried not to let her excitement over the revelation show.

“I used to have it every night after Jesse disappeared. Mom took me to a therapist for years. I eventually stopped having the nightmares. Until last week.”

“What else happens in the dream?”

Jillian scrunched up her face. “I’m little again. Jared’s watching us, but he’s acting funny. I know now it’s because he was high.”

Melender reached over and took Jillian’s hand.

“I’m supposed to be asleep, but Jared let me stay up to watch Toy Story 2. Jesse has a cold, so he’s congested and not sleeping well. He wakes up and starts crying. Jared yells at me to check on Jesse and give him his stuffed animal. You remember his favorite one? The blue bunny with the missing eye?”

“Yes, I remember.” Melender rubbed the back of Jillian’s hand with her thumb, just like she used to do when Jillian was little.

“Jesse had thrown it out of his crib. I picked it up for him, but he didn’t stand up. He just cried. I touched his face, and it was hot, so I got Jared. He came in, said a bad word, then stomped off.”

Melender kept up the rhythmic motion of her thumb, hardly daring to breath as Jillian continued.

“He gave Jesse something liquid in a little cup, then told me I’d better get him to stop crying. I played peek-a-boo with the bunny until he finally stopped crying and went to sleep.” She wiped a tear from her cheek, then squeezed Melender’s hand. “I went to bed, and that’s the last time I ever saw my baby brother.”

Melender’s heart thudded. Her lawyer should have uncovered this information at the time of her trial. Surely Jillian, even though she was only three, had been questioned at the time. “Did you tell this to the police?”

Jillian shook her head. “No one ever asked me about that night beyond when I went to bed. I didn’t tell anyone about watching Toy Story or playing with Jesse because I knew I wasn’t supposed to be awake that late. And I cried every time someone mentioned Jesse’s name, so Mom wouldn’t let anyone ask me questions.”

“Do you know what Jared did after giving Jesse the medicine?”

“No.”

Melender reigned in her disappointment. While this tallied with her story about Jared being in charge of the kids, it still didn’t shed any new light on what had happened to Jesse. “You said you used to dream about that night a lot?”

“Yeah. I dreamed about Jesse crying and the medicine and the blue bunny for weeks.” She let go of Melender’s hand and brushed back a few strands of hair from her face. “Last week, when I had the dream again after so many years, it was a little different.”

“In what way?” Melender leaned toward Jillian, her eyes fixed on her cousin.

“This time, I dreamed I got up to get a drink of water after going to bed. You remember my room and Jesse’s were connected by a bathroom?”

Melender nodded.

“The door from the bathroom to Jesse’s room wasn’t closed all the way, like it usually was. I got the drink, but thought I heard Dad’s voice in Jesse’s room. I put my eye to the crack and saw someone leaning over Jesse’s crib.”

Melender sucked in a breath. “What was this person doing?”

“Picking up Jesse.”