Ridge Route Annie

By Chris Barnhart

19-year-old Annie was jilted. Left at the altar that spring of 1958. A flood of emotions swept through her in a fury: embarrassment, devastation, shame, anger, hatred. the another emotion stopped her cold. Fear. What if something horrifying had happened? She had to find out if it took everything she had.
It took four years and every penny she had to her name. This is Annie's story, her search along the Ridge Route of Central California's Highway 99 for Nathan Taylor Quinn, the trucker that simply vanished. Her search led her from a comfortable middle-class upbringing to the extreme hardships of a field laborer, homelessness, and being hunted by a ruthless crime syndicate. Ever searching, Annie refused to let go of the fire that burned in her heart. Not until she found Nate.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chris Barnhart
• Release date: Sep 11, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463308271

Book preview

Ridge

Route

Annie

By

Chris Barnhart

Copyright ©2018 Chris Barnhart

All rights reserved

Published by Chris Barnhart

Lodi, CA

Cover by Chris Barnhart

Dedicated to Robert Williams, whose truck driving stories, both true and wildly embellished, inspired Annie’s saga.

Prologue

In all the years he’d been driving the Ridge Route over the mountains between Los Angeles and California’s central valley, he’d never seen a storm like this over the Grapevine. Snow, wind, heavy rain he had seen, but the golf ball sized hail that was hitting the windshield this night was starting to crack the glass. The windshield wipers were useless, as were the headlights, and he could barely see the road ahead. He looked every few seconds in his rearview mirror. He couldn’t see them, but he knew they had to be there. It was only a matter of time.

The downgrade was coming up fast. He downshifted and applied the brakes. That’s when his heart nearly stopped. There were none. He pumped and pumped and got a little bit but not enough to slow this big rig down. The trailer swayed precariously behind him. The passenger beside him was stoic and silent, gripping the edge of his seat with both hands.

There’s a run up just ahead, he shouted. We’ll make that and it’ll slow us down.

You sure, Tag? the passenger questioned. I don’t remember it being this close to Gorman.

Then Tag looked in his rearview mirror. The lights were just pin pricks in the far distance and gaining fast. Nobody in their right mind would be driving that fast in these conditions. Nobody but them.

He glanced at the passenger and felt a twinge of guilt. A sudden crash to the windshield, and he almost lost control, the trailer swaying much worse now, dragging him over the yellow line and into oncoming traffic. He swerved and brought the rig back to the right lane, avoiding a sedan struggling up the hill. Tag fought for control and got it, breathing a sigh of relief, but only for the moment. He peered anxiously through the cracked windshield and hail for the strip of sand and gravel that ran up a steep hill. The run up. It would stop his rig and then he could make a run for it on foot if he had to.

The vehicle behind was gaining. He strained to see in the rear-view mirror. Another hailstone smashed on the passenger side window, causing the passenger to swear loudly. There! The run up. He swerved off the highway, then he realized his mistake. Too late! The rig crashed through a guard rail, went over the steep embankment, and tumbled. The headlights went out, then there was only darkness, the storm, and death.

Chapter One

The low rumble of thunder made one of the pairs of white horses a little edgy. He snorted and shook his mane, jingling the bells on the reins that were attached to the white Cinderella coach. The livery driver, dressed in gray top hat, gray coat with tails, and black breeches and boots, rubbed the horse’s muzzle, patted his flank gently to reassure him.

The storm is over, he whispered gently to the horse as he straightened the big white feather plume on the bridle.

And what a storm it had been. California’s Central Valley had been pummeled with heavy rains, hail, thunder and lightning, and gale force winds for the last two days. Now, the dark purple clouds were bunched up against the Sierra Nevada Mountains to the east and all that was left were a few rumbles of thunder and the occasional fork of lightning in the distance. With spring just around the corner, this should be the last of the heavy rains.

The carriage driver lit a cigarette and looked at his watch. There was no hurrying a bride. She was ready when she was ready, he thought to himself. This was his last wedding of the day. This bride really lucked out and he was able to accommodate her order of the Cinderella carriage rather than the black carriage with the rain curtains like he had to use this in this morning’s wedding. He just hoped that he would get home before the first ever Los Angeles Dodgers game at the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum. They were playing the other brand new California team, the San Francisco Giants. He was even thinking of buying season tickets for the new stadium being built in Chavez Ravine next year.

He puffed the last of the cigarette, threw the butt into a puddle in the gutter, and looked again at his watch. This one was cutting it close. He could see the bustle of activity in the window of the upstairs bedroom in the stately brick mansion with its white shutters and manicured landscaping. He shook his head. People with money, he sighed. He wished his own business would pick up and he could move to an upscale neighborhood like this. He had started with two carriages that had been in his family since the turn of the century and he recently added two more that he rented out for parades, weddings, historical events. He was excited about getting the contract for Old Sacramento tours.

He took a rag from under the seat and wiped the few drops of water that had fallen from the elm trees that lined the street. He fussed with adjusting the rope of white roses that bedecked the edge of the carriage and the small bouquets of white tea roses that wound their way up the white iron work that created the pumpkin in the center of the carriage. His wife had worked late into the night to decorate it and he was very proud of her work. The mother of the bride had oohed and grinned this morning when he pulled up in front of the house. It met her approval. Good thing. She seemed like one of those types that was picky. Everything had to be perfect, and she had the money to hold it over your head if she didn’t like each and every little thing. He wondered what was going on up in the bedroom.

The master bedroom was chaos. Annie Lavoie stood in front of the full length antique mirror. It was tilted on its carved cherry wood frame so that she could see her whole image. The dress was a dreamy white cloud of lace and satin that floated around her and ended in a long train of lace. The bodice was a sweetheart neckline with capped sleeves and itched like hell.

Stand still while I tuck this in, said Jean as Annie wiggled to get the itchy parts off her skin.

It feels like the dressmaker left some pins in it somewhere, complained Annie. Can you look? Right there where your hand is.

Jean Martin, Annie’s best friend and maid of honor, hiked up the layers of chiffon. She tucked her dark, shoulder length pageboy behind her ears, scrunched up her own lavender gown, and kneeled down beside Annie. She brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes, took a deep breath like she was about to dive into a pool and dove under the gown. She felt around the waist and sure enough came up with a small straight pin.

Annie and Jean had been lifelong best friends. Jean lived around the corner on Grover Street. The two were the same age, went through school together starting in kindergarten, shared every secret together. Jean had flashing brown eyes in a round face that was forever smiling. She had a bubbly personality that contrasted Annie’s more laid-back countenance.

You are right, Annie. I found this.

See if you can find any more, Jean. It feels like one in the front too.

Here’s the veil, said Rhonda, Annie’s cousin. Are you ready for it yet, Jean?

Almost. The dressmaker left some little presents for our bride, she replied sarcastically.

The bedroom door blew open and the mother of the bride strode in like a whorl wind.

This is a disaster, Lizzie Lavoie announced. Haven’t you got the veil on yet? Annie, the carriage is waiting downstairs. Did the shoe stretcher help those shoes any? What are you doing on the floor, Jean? Never mind. Rhonda, see if we can smooth that veil out just a little bit more. Yes, like that. Good, you put it on her let’s see what it looks like.

Mother, did you know there was a crack in this mirror? said Annie.

That brought the whole room to a dead silence. What? gasped Lizzie. There is no crack in that mirror. What are you talking about?

Right here, said Annie as she put her finger on a small crack in the upper right corner of the mirror. Lizzie stepped around her to get a closer look.

How in the world did that happen? I’ll have to speak to the cleaning lady. All we need now is seven years bad luck.

That’s just a superstition, Mrs. Lavoie, said Jean from the floor.

Lizzie huffed.

Mother, Robin, Annie’s older sister called from the door. Uncle Ralph is here. He wants to see you downstairs.

Has he heard from Nate? asked Annie, but Robin had disappeared back downstairs. Mother, see if he’s heard from Nate.

Lizzie gave her daughter a weak smile as Rhonda put the veil on her head. The dress was perfect on her slim figure and she looked like a dream. Lizzie sighed. Her younger daughter was gone. In her place stood the most beautiful young woman. Lizzie brushed away a tear, and with one last look, turned and went downstairs.

Jean handed Annie the bridal bouquet of white roses sprinkled with tiny lavender dyed tea roses that cascaded almost down to the floor. Don’t worry, Annie, Cynthia fixed the flowers. She doesn’t know how they got crushed. I know you wanted all white but when Cindy went back to the florist to get some extras to replace the crushed ones, all they had were these lavender ones. Luckily, this goes with everything.

Annie accepted the bouquet from Jean. Thanks. I know my future sister-in-law is not the brightest bulb in the string, but she means well. Her heart is always in the right place, but sometimes I don’t know how she remembers how to tie her shoes. She probably sat on the flowers. I wonder what the inside of the church looks like. She was supposed to get those ropes of flowers, too.

Jean laughed. I guess Nate inherited all the brains in that family.

She smiled as she watched Annie’s face as Annie gazed into the mirror. What a transformation from the usual ponytailed, pedal pushers and T-shirt wearing nineteen-year-old. Her long blonde curly hair framed a heart-shaped face, with wide green eyes. Her slim figure was lost in all the chiffon and crinoline, but with her square shoulders and long neck she must have taken after her father. Robin favored Lizzie with her red hair and Irish freckles.

There was just a brief moment when a tear threatened. Annie’s father, Alec Lavoie, was killed in a plane crash over the Rocky Mountains twelve years ago, coming home from a business trip in New York. He had been a corporate lawyer. Annie was only seven when he died, but he left Lizzie, Robin, and Annie well off. They lacked for nothing.

She had seen pictures of her dad. Lizzie hung them on the wall in the dining room. The black and white photos only showed light wavy hair and light eyes, tall and handsome in his Navy uniform. She wished, of all wishes, that he was here today to give her away. His brother, her uncle Ralph Lavoie, had that duty to walk her down the aisle today. Grandpa Leroy Amos wanted to so bad, but he was crippled with arthritis and in a wheelchair. Grandma Rose was still in the home, cancer slowly eating her lungs. Nate’s mother Agnes had moved to Baton Rouge after the divorce from Nate’s father, William Quinn. Nate’s stepmother, Alice Quinn, oversaw the reception in the church hall and really outdid herself with beautiful decorations, the catering, the live orchestra, the favors on the tables. Annie liked her a lot. Alice was warm and a bit on the shy side. She had been a great help with the wedding planning. Lizzie had wanted to hire a professional wedding planner, but Annie favored Alice’s ideas better.

Nate’s father, Bill, was a total nervous wreck so they had him in the church kitchen making pots of coffee just to keep them out of their hair.

I guess everything’s ready, said Jean. You want help downstairs? Annie turned and hugged Jean. I love you so much, Jean. I don’t know what I would do without you. Yes, I’m going to need help. This train is wicked. Can you give me a minute? Jean nodded, trying not to cry.

Don’t you worry Annie. He’ll be here. Your uncle Ralph tried to call Nate’s aunt Lois down in Turlock but the power’s out and some phone lines are still down from the storm. I’m sure he made to her house last night. He probably didn’t want to make the trip up here because the weather was so bad.

Annie smiled and nodded. It’s just that darn old truck of his. How he holds that antique thing together I don’t know.

Rubber bands and library paste, Jean laughed. You have to admit, it looks pretty good since he had it painted.

Cherry red, Annie laugh. Of all colors.

All right, I’ll leave you alone. Don’t take too long. Have you seen that Cinderella carriage outside? It’s so cool!

And with that Jean slipped out of the room and closed the door. Annie turned back to the mirror and reached out and touched the crack in the right-hand corner. She prayed it was not an omen. Suddenly, her throat went dry and she bit her lip. Then she smiled. She hardly recognized herself all gussied up like this. Truthfully, she hated getting dressed up for anything. She much preferred dungarees and t-shirts. Senior prom night last year had been a disaster, but Nate saved the night with a beautiful corsage that covered up the slight tear in the shoulder of her aquamarine dress.

She remembered the first time she saw Nate. She was sixteen and working as a car hop at the A&W on roller skates, no less. Her shift was Friday nights and Saturday afternoons. He pulled in one night in his old black De Soto. He was with his best friends, David Donaldson and Joe Marlowe. They had their car radio blasting that new beat song, Shake, Rattle and Roll by Bill Haley and the Comets. Her mother strictly forbade that devil’s music to be played in her home. Even the school sock hops refuse to play it, saying it could lead to things, but Annie kind of liked it. It was different and exciting. She listened to mostly country western music and loved the weekly Grand Ole Opry show on the radio.

She skated up to take his order and he smiled up at her. Burger, fries and a malted.

Make that three, chickie baby, said the passenger Davy. Hey, what are you doing later?

Can it, Davy, said Joe, the blonde in the backseat, as he punched Davy’s shoulder. She looks like one of those highfalutin chicks from Bear Valley High.

All three groaned and whistled. Not one of those? said Davy in a high falsetto voice. Are we slumming tonight, baby doll? Oh, she’s working. Look at that. Seeing how the other half lives, chickie baby?

Never mind them, Nate said uncomfortably. They’re animals. They wouldn’t know how to act around a lady. Annie just stood there as a chorus of oohs and cat calls emanated from the car. I’m sorry, sister. I really am.

That’s all right, she replied. I get it all the time. After a while you just ignore it. It’s not worth even getting upset about.

She skated away, her knees shaking. All she could see were the dimples in his cheeks, the slicked back dark wavy hair and his blue velvet eyes. There had never been a boy that ever affected her like that, although Nate was no boy. He was almost twenty-one.

It was months later before she saw him again. It was a chance meeting when Uncle Ralph picked her up from the library after school and had to make one stop at Tony Sodano’s Garage to make a payment on the repairs to his Packard. She stood outside the double wooden doors of the garage and watched the back end of a mechanic wiggle and squirm as his head and shoulders were immersed in the engine of an older blue rusty looking pickup truck. When he stood up, he was covered in greasy blue-gray overalls and dirty white t-shirt, his hands and face blackened with oil. Annie gasped. It was him, the guy with the De Soto and rude friends.

When he turned and saw her, he was clearly embarrassed. Hi, he stammered. Can I help you?

No, I…. I’m just here waiting for my uncle.

Yeah, okay. The silence between them was as awkward a feeling as Annie had ever felt. She wanted to say more, to talk to him but she didn’t know what to say and it was obvious he didn’t know what to say either. She found out later that he had asked who she was. Tony, the owner told Nate that she was Annie Lavoie and lived over on Oak Avenue. Nate said it was over right then. No way could he ever hope to date somebody from that neighborhood.

He tried to put Annie out of his mind. Then, two weeks before Christmas he stopped at the Alpha Beta Market for a six-pack and chips when he nearly collided with her coming out the door. She dropped her bag of groceries and didn’t realize it was him until he stooped down to help her pick up a rolling tomato.

Before he realized what he was doing, he was walking her home.

Sometimes, when she looked out of her bedroom window, she would see his black DeSoto parked at the curb, and Nate, in black jeans and black t-shirt, leaning against the front fender having a smoke and looking up at her window. If Lizzie wasn’t home, she would run down to join him. He lifted her up on the hood, and they would talk. That is until Lizzie caught them and screamed at her not to have that hoodlum near the house.

Lizzie then went on a campaign to find her daughter a decent boy. There was a string of calls from geeky, thick rimmed glasses-wearing, sting bean types, sons of her mother’s friends at the garden club or nephews of the docents at the Historical Society, all proper and well-groomed and boring as the test pattern on the television.

Nate was now a very regular customer at the A & W every Saturday afternoon and Friday night, and when the manager asked Annie if she wanted more hours after high school graduation, she readily agreed. There was one dangerous moment when she met Nate at Jean’s house. He asked her to go with him to a Sunday matinee to see the latest sci-fi movie Invasion of the Body Snatchers. She told Lizzie that she and Jean were going to the potluck at Jean’s church. When the phone rang at the Martin’s house and her mother, June answered and said Oh, hi, Lizzie, both girls panicked.

The potluck? questioned June, just as Nate’s DeSoto pulled up in front of the Martin’s house. When Annie and Jean slowly made their way down the stairs, June caught their eye. Oh yes, I’m sure the girls will have lots of fun. June hung up the phone, looked outside, then at Annie and said, you have fun at the potluck, honey. Jean, dear, may I see you in the kitchen? Annie sighed in relief and nodded a silent thank you to Mrs. Martin.

It wasn’t long after that, Nate dropped the bombshell. They were sipping fresh squeezed orange juice at The Big Orange stand next to Highway 99 a couple of week after Annie’s graduation.

I have some great news, he told her. I passed my test.

She looked at him, surprised. Test? What test?

My class A, he told her proudly. I’m legal to drive now. She looked at him quizzically, not sure how to react. I can drive a big rig. And, the best news is, I have a job.

You mean drive one of those big trucks? asked Annie as she watched a couple of semis rumble noisily behind them on the highway.

Nate nodded. And this guy named Buck Turner just hired me to drive some produce down to a cannery in El Segundo. Nate could hardly contain his excitement and he was a little taken aback at Annie’s stone-faced stare. What’s wrong, Annie?

You quit your mechanic job?

Yeah, of course I did. I can’t do both. Annie, listen, this is the break that we’ve been waiting for. I’ll be making a lot more money. What’s wrong?

You’ll be gone, she said hesitantly, trying to hold back tears. El Segundo is down in Los Angeles. Nate, that’s four hundred miles from here.

He took both of her hands in his and looked into her eyes. I love you Annie. I would do anything for you. I want you to be my wife. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I can’t give you the life that you deserve working at Tony’s garage. Annie, I’ve also got a chance to buy my own rig. It’s an older ’38 Peterbilt. I’ll be in business for myself. Joe wants to come in as a partner. He’s started truck driving school and we can increase our business right away. Buck Turner’s dad owns a big trucking company down in Visalia and Buck is going out on his own. He’s looking for young drivers with their own rigs. He says there’s plenty of work and with my own rig I can even make more money working for him. And then the sky’s the limit. Someday, I want to own a fleet of trucks that run up and down that highway over there.

The tears were falling freely down her cheeks as she got caught up in his dream. I love you, Nate Quinn.

That was two years ago. He had bought that first rig, a nineteen thirty-eight Peterbilt that he had painted cherry red. He was making regular runs from farms in the valley, over the ridge route and down to Los Angeles and was planning on buying a second rig and hiring his best friend Joe Marlowe as a second driver. Joe had gotten his license and the two lifelong friends were eager to get started in their own business.

Even Lizzie had cooled her animosity toward Nate. A lot of that was due to June Martin, who had gotten to know Nate and found him to be one of the nicest young men she had ever met. When Lizzie found out that the relationship between Annie and Nate was serious and found out that June had been encouraging the relationship, June told her how she felt about Nate and asked Lizzie to come to lunch with her where she explained how much in love Nate and Annie were.

June had known the Quinn family even though they were from the other side of the tracks. June had gone to school with Bill Quinn. The family attended church regularly and Bill was even an elder in his church. The Quinn family had suffered many hardships including divorce, Bill’s failed business and his wife, Nate’s mother, abandoning the family. Through all of that, William Quinn was an upstanding man, loved his family and was a hard worker at the winery where he was a foreman on the bottling line. He raised both his son and daughter, Cynthia, to be honest, hard-working people. Annie could do no worse with Nate Quinn.

But a truck driver, June, Lizzie grimaced. Annie could have her pick of young men. Doctors, lawyers, businessmen. Why a truck driver?

Because she’s in love, Lizzie, June smiled.

Will she grow out of it?

They’ve been dating now for three years. He’s asked her to marry him. Lizzie, give him a chance. He’s got a good business head on his shoulders and he loves Annie so much. Get to know him. You’ll like him. I promise.

Lizzie softened toward Nate as she asked Annie to bring him around so that she could meet him. Lizzie was soon taken with Nate’s honest and open personality, his gentleness and kindness, and in his warm treatment of her daughter.

Annie dealt with Nate’s long absences with increased hours at the A&W, and planning her wedding. She saved almost every penny that she earned in a wooden cigar box on her closet shelf. A couple of weeks before the wedding, a three-bedroom cottage in a nice but not wealthy neighborhood had come on the market. She and Nate went over to see it and it was perfect. It had a large backyard, and a large barn-like garage for Nate to park his truck and work on it if he had to. Lizzie offered to give the couple the down payment as a wedding gift and as soon as Nate got back from this last run to Los Angeles, they would contact the real estate agent and put the money down on the property.

Annie tried to calm the butterflies in her stomach as she gazed in the cracked mirror. She took a deep breath just as Jean knocked softly on the bedroom door and poked her head in. Ready? her best friend asked.

Ready as I’ll ever be, she replied. Has anyone heard from Nate?

Not that I know of, but I’m sure he’s on his way. Phone lines are still down south of us and power is out in a lot of places. Bill has been trying to call Lois, but the operators keep saying they can’t connect any long-distance calls. I’m sure he’s on his way.

I wonder what’s keeping him.

The news on the radio said that there is a lot of trees down and traffic is backed up in places on the northbound highway. A lot of the highway is flooded too. Don’t worry, Annie. He’ll be here.

All right, Annie replied as she gave her best friend a hug. Thank you, Jean.

Jean gathered the long lace train and the two girls made their way down the sweeping staircase.

The church was filling up and most of the guests were inside as the Cinderella carriage pulled up to the curb. The lump in the pit of her stomach was growing heavier by the second. Uncle Ralph, with slicked back wavy light hair under a black top hat, his black tux and lavender ascot and polished shoes, walked down the steps to meet her. He held out his hand to help her from the carriage but there was something disconcerting about the half smile he gave her.

What a vision of loveliness, he whispered as he bent to kiss her hand. Nate is one lucky guy.

She forced a smile back at him. Uncle Ralph, is there something wrong?

Oh, no. It was just a minor thing. Don’t you worry about it.

Worry about what? she stammered as Uncle Ralph wrapped his arm around hers and led her up the front steps of the church.

"Nothing, it was a small fire.’

Fire?

Nate’s father, Bill, tried to burn the church down.

What?

Not on purpose, Annie. He was making coffee in the church kitchen and he set a dish towel too close to the burner. Before anyone noticed, the burning towel caught the window curtain on fire. They got it out right quick.

He’s okay?

Oh, sure. A bit embarrassed, though.

That didn’t help much, the butterflies in her stomach were in a roar. As they mounted the steps, best man Joe Marlowe, met them at the door. He looked at Annie, tried to smile, and shook his head at Uncle Ralph. Then he whispered something in Ralph’s ear. Ralph sighed deeply and turned to Annie.

Annie, Nate is still not here. She looked at him with wide eyes. I don’t know how to tell you this. Joe just got through to Nate’s aunt Lois. Annie, he didn’t show up at her house. He hasn’t called, but then the phone lines have been out down there.

Ralph went on, but Annie’s ears went suddenly deaf. Where was Nate? Oh, God! Where was he? Her stomach lurched and the church nave around her suddenly went gray, her eyes rolled back in her head, and she fell backward. Joe caught her just in time. The young priest, Father O’Donnell, entered the nave from the sanctuary and closed the double doors behind him. He looked questionably at Ralph.

We’re almost twenty minutes behind, said the priest. I have to be at the hospital for my rounds at three.

You might as well go and make the announcement, Father, said Ralph. Looks like the groom is a no-show.

Oh dear, that’s too bad. They’re such a nice couple. I enjoyed meeting them. You can take her into my office. There’s a couch in there. I’ll say a prayer.

The priest opened the doors and walked down the aisle toward the altar. As Joe lifted Annie, Lizzie and Jean came into the nave. They stopped short when they heard the priest say I’m sorry ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming. Unfortunately, the wedding has been postponed.

Moans and groans could be heard from the near capacity filled sanctuary.

Ralph? Lizzie gasped. What happened?

Jean gathered the long train and the veil and followed Joe and Annie into the pastor’s office and shut the door. Ralph grabbed his sister-in-law and held her.

Nate didn’t show.

Oh, Ralph! What happened? Where is he? This isn’t like him.

He told Annie on Thursday morning that he was heading up over the ridge route. If the weather got bad, he would stay with his aunt until the storm blew over. Joe just got a hold of Lois a few minutes ago. She said that Nate had called her Thursday afternoon and said he would be at her house that evening. He never showed up.

Oh, my God. I hope nothing happened to him. What can we do?

The church secretary is letting Nate’s sister Cynthia use the phone in the office. She’s trying to contact the Highway Patrol now. I also suggested that maybe we call some of the hospitals along the ridge route.

Oh, Ralph, he’s got to be all right.

I told her to call Oliveview Hospital in Sylmar on the south end of the route and Bakersfield General on the north side.

I have to sit down.

Are you going to be alright, Lizzie?

None of us are, Ralph. Not until we find out what happened to Nate.

Ralph nodded. His heart ached for his niece. He gave gentle nods, a lot of I don’t know, and yes, I’ll let Annie know, as the wedding guests filed slowly from the church. The last to leave was Father O’Donnell.

Any news?

No, Father, Ralph replied sadly. Your secretary graciously let us use the phone in the church office to see if we could find out anything, but no luck so far.

Oh, by all means, the priest said, stay as long as you like. Please, let me know if you hear anything. Anything you need, just ask Grace. She works until four today.

"Thank you, Father. Please say a prayer for both Nate and Annie.

I will. God bless you.

Chapter Two

Annie let the lace curtain fall back into place. She had watched her mother get into a yellow cab and it pulled away from the curb. She dragged a folding footstool from under her bed, rolled back the closet door, reached up onto the very top shelf, and brought down the cigar box. She sat on the bed and was just about to open it when Jean stuck her head in the door.

Hi! she said.

Annie jumped and almost spilled the contents of the cigar box all over the bed. She relaxed when she saw it was Jean.

You scared me. I didn’t even hear the front doorbell.

Your mother let me just before she left. What’s she up to today?

Downtown to get her hair done, Annie replied. "She’s got big doings at the