18. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

Max

T he next morning was Sunday and I found myself in Jake's truck as we headed out to the mountains to find Nathan's family. We had an approximate address and their last name and pretty much nothing else to go on. Between us on the truck's seat was the file with copies of the letters and our research, along with some photos that Joan had managed to unearth of her grandfather both as a young man and when he was older. None of them had Nathan in them, as far as we could tell. I hoped it would be enough.

Once we arrived at the town, Jake slowed down and parked the truck on Main Street, just outside of a diner.

"Hungry?"

He shrugged. "I figured this would be the place to find people who know things."

"Wow," I said, my voice thick with sarcasm. "So specific."

He rolled his eyes, flipped me the bird, and got out of his truck.

We entered the little diner, which turned out to be hot and stuffy, ancient tile floors and cracking vinyl seats. I glanced around before heading to the wooden counter with a few stools in front of it, the kind that spun in circles and invariably wobbled. The few, scattered patrons were mostly older, some much older, and the room fell silent when we walked in, except for the scrape of silverware on plates and the clatter of a tray in the kitchen.

The lady at the diner counter was about as old as Jake's parents, her short white hair kept in tight curls, held back with a hairnet. "What can I get started for you fellas?" she asked, her Appalachian accent shining through. She placed coffee cups in front of two of the stools and began pouring from a full pot. "Coffee's fresh."

I gave her a warm smile and nodded. "Thank you, ma'am. We're—"

Jake stopped me with a hand on my arm. "We'd love some pancakes, if you're still serving breakfast."

"Breakfast all day. I'll go tell Jimmy. Want anything with your pancakes?"

"Sausage links?"

The woman turned her gaze to me. "How about you, son?"

"I—uh—bacon?" I stuttered. I hadn't expected to eat, just to get info and go, but if we were going to have breakfast, I wasn't going to complain.

"Got you covered." With that, she disappeared into the kitchen.

When she left, I turned to Jake and dropped my voice to a whisper. "We're not here for food."

He shrugged and sipped his coffee before answering. "We can't just dive in and ask her. Trust me."

I took a resigned sigh and sipped my own scalding cup of coffee. Not only did it burn my tongue, it was bitter, desperately needing cream and sugar. I looked around and grabbed the condiment caddy to doctor up my drink before Jake could stop me from doing that, too.

When the lady returned, she looked us up and down. "Y'all aren't from around here."

Jake shook his head. "No, ma'am. I'm Jake, this is Max. We're from Port Grandlin."

She nodded. "I'm Mabel. What brings y'all this way?"

Jake glanced at me and nodded. "We're looking for some information, actually. Max?"

"Yeah, I…" I cleared my throat and pulled a photo out of the folder very carefully. "We're looking for the family of this man. Nathan Barnes. Do you know where we could find them?"

Mabel raised her eyes. "Nathan Barnes? I haven't heard that name in an age. Anyway, the Barnes' family farm is up that-a-way a ways, maybe two miles up the road. But they're not home."

"No?" I asked, dying to ask how she could possibly know that.

"Not this morning. Lydia takes her family to the Unitarian church down in Spring Hollow every Sunday without fail." Mabel dropped her voice to a low murmur. "Those churches around here are a little too closed-minded for her liking." She glanced up at the clock on the wall behind her. "She'll be bringing those boys through here any time, I suppose."

From the kitchen, a bell dinged, and Mabel nodded at us. "That'll be your pancakes. Be right back." She ducked into the kitchen again and returned a quick moment later with plates in both hands before putting them in front of us. "How's that look?"

"It looks perfect, Miss Mabel." Jake gave her a smile I didn't usually see on him, bright and genuine, crinkling the corners of his eyes. I loved that smile.

She laughed and shook her head. "I haven't been a Miss in a long time, but thank you, young man. Now, what's got you looking for the Barnes family? I reckon you know Nathan's been gone a long time now. Thinking he passed near on forty years ago now."

I swallowed the bite of pancake I was chewing and nodded. "Yes, ma'am. We have something that belonged to him. We were hoping to meet with the family and see if they wanted it."

Mabel nodded thoughtfully but before she could say anything, an older man ambled up to the counter. "You heading out, Hank?"

He smiled and spoke, his voice dry and crackly with age. "You know it, Mabel. What do I owe you?"

She patted the counter in front of us. "Be right back."

"Do you think she knows something?" I asked Jake.

He shrugged, chewing thoughtfully before swallowing. "She's already given us more than we had."

"Good point."

Mabel returned to us then. "Now, where were we?"

"These pancakes are amazing, Mabel. Your recipe?"

Her cheeks flushed a little, turning a pale shade of pink. "My momma's recipe. Thank you, son. It's always nice to hear." She turned to me and gestured out the window. "Speaking of Lydia."

I spun on my stool to find a woman entering the diner with a pair of tall young men in tow. They were all dressed up, Lydia in a green sundress with a white cardigan over it, her blonde curls falling around her shoulders. The two men with her were in slacks and button-downs. They all headed our way and took seats at the counter.

"Phew. It's hot out there today, Momma," she said, putting a little black purse on the counter next to her. The boys nodded and murmured their agreement. None of them looked at menus.

Mabel grinned at us. "Gentlemen, meet my daughter, Lydia, and my grandsons, Nate and Wyatt."

I suppressed a surprised laugh and Jake shot me a wink. "It's so good to meet you."

As she spoke, she set glasses of ice water out for them. "These boys were looking for you today. Something about your great-granddaddy Nathan. Now, I'll be right back with your food."

I frowned, my brows dipping. They hadn't even ordered.

Jake leaned in and whispered. "Regulars don't usually need to order. Especially not family."

"You're looking for my great-granddaddy?" Lydia stirred her water idly with a straw.

"Now might not be the best time to talk," Jake said, glancing around. The diner was still mostly empty.

"It's fine, none of these folks are going to care about whatever you're here for." She leaned close and winked. "A bunch of them probably can't even hear you."

I chuckled softly and slid the file toward her. "Are you aware of your great-grandfather's friend, Freddie? He was Jake's great-grandfather."

Lydia leaned back, pinching her lips together in a frown. "Don't think I know that name."

Mabel returned and set a plate with a club sandwich in front of each of them. "I do," she said. "Freddie was out this way all the time, until Nathan passed. Nathan was my granddad."

Jake laughed and shook his head. "I had a suspicion. Why didn't you tell us?"

She shrugged. "Wanted to watch you squirm a little." Everyone laughed at that, even Lydia's sons, who had been quiet up to that point.

"Well, in that case, let's catch you up on what's going on," I said, sliding the folder in her direction. I ran them through the story as thoroughly as possible, Mabel nodding the whole time, Lydia and her boys leaning in to hear while they ate.

"See, Freddie and Nathan, they were close, but nobody ever confirmed their relationship beyond a friendship," Mabel said quietly. "They were both good men. I'm sorry they never got the happy ending they deserved."

"We were wondering… do you think Freddie's letters to Nathan survived somehow?"

Lydia spoke up then. "Momma, do you think they could be in that old trunk upstairs?"

Mabel's face lit up. "You know, they just might be."

At that, Lydia turned to us. "If you fellas want, you can come back to the farm and we can look in that trunk together."

Jake and I exchanged a look and we both nodded. "I think we'd like that very much," I said.

"Well, what are we waiting for then?" She stood and pulled a little cash out of her purse. "Thanks for lunch, Momma."

"Don't forget to report back now, okay?"

"I won't," Lydia promised, and led the way outside.

Less than fifteen minutes later we were bumping down her dusty driveway before parking in the grass next to an ancient two-story farmhouse. Lydia had us follow her upstairs and then into the attic where it was sweltering hot. Immediately, sweat beaded on my brow and the back of my neck. As it rolled down my back, Lydia pointed us to the trunk.

"I haven't looked in there since I was a little girl. There are some Army uniforms, a wedding gown, and some pictures. Maybe your letters will be there, too."

I was practically holding my breath as we gingerly pulled out the aging garments. When we'd reached the bottom of the trunk, all that was left were a stack of photos and a small bundle of papers, all tied together with twine. My breath hitched as Lydia pulled them out.

"Well, let's see." She untied the twine, slipped the photos out of the bundle, and started looking at the papers beneath. After a few moments, she passed the top one to us, hands shaking.

May 23, 1922

My Nathan,

With summer on the horizon, I am nearly beside myself with excitement. To hold you and be held by you, spending the long days together, I can hardly bear it. I am looking forward to splashing in the river with you, lying in the tall grass as we dry off, and of course your tender touch. I hope and pray our summer will be filled with the joy of each other's company, despite the hardships of working throughout the days on the farms we will be tending to.

Life here is terribly dull without you, and only the thought of your lips on mine has given me the strength to go on through the endless winter nights. I will see you in scarcely a week. I have already packed my belongings and Mother accuses me of wanting to leave her behind. She believes I have a girl waiting for me. The thought makes me heartsick, though more so because I grieve the impossibility of our future relationship.

That is no matter for now and I do not want to dwell on it. Mother is calling me for dinner, and I must finish this letter and post it before the night ends if it is to arrive before I do.

Lovingly yours,

Freddie

After Lydia handed us the stack of letters, we headed back to the diner to inform Mabel, who had been delighted to know they'd been recovered.

"I want you boys to keep them," she said with a smile. "Now, what are you fellas going to do with them?"

I cleared my throat. "Well, I have an idea." I described how I wanted to approach the historical society in Port Grandlin with the letters and ask them to curate an exhibit about them. "I wanted to get your permission first, though. How would you feel about your grandfather's love story being displayed for people to see? For them to learn about how times have changed, even right here in our area?"

She gave us a warm smile. "I reckon that would be alright."