Return to Apple Grove Ch. 01

This story is part of an ongoing series. The chronological order of my stories is now listed in WifeWatchman's biography.

Feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated, and I encourage feedback for ideas.

This story contains graphic scenes, language and actions that might be extremely offensive to some people. These scenes, words and actions are used only for the literary purposes of this story. The author does not condone murder, racial language, violence, rape or violence against women, and any depictions of any of these in this story should not be construed as acceptance of the above.

Dedicated to the memory of John Denver. Gone too soon.

Part 1 - Prologue

Dawn, Wednesday, June 27th. Carole was absolutely beside herself with excitement as I put the last of the luggage into the back of our new Mercedes-Benz SUV. She was more than eager to begin this trip, and had been since we'd told her that we were going to Apple Grove, where Grandma used to live and where Daddy had grown up.

The SUV had been a gift from Dr. P. Harvey Eckhart, and it was enhanced with a few features, like bulletproof run-flat tires, bulletproof windows and sides, though not to the extent my Police SUV was armored. Laura had had some 'interesting' modifications made via the 'THEFT' light, restrictor plates, and other monitoring devices most people don't know are in their own cars. The former Deputy Director of the CIA for Science and Technology was well aware, and she made it so that the tracking could be turned off.

And unlike most cars that can only go about 105 mph due to Government-mandated restrictors on vehicles, this baby could get to 200 mph if we needed it to. We hoped we'd never need for it to, but we tested it on some farm roads between 'The Vision' in Coltrane County and the southern end of our County. Laura and I did not ride together, 'just in case', so Cindy rode with each of us, and also drove it herself... and set the speed record for the vehicle. It was also fortunate for us that Deputy Strait has a crush on Cindy, which saved her from a brutal speeding ticket.

"You ready to go, Carole?" I asked.

"Yes, Daddy!" Carole all but yelled. "I can't wait to see where you went to school!" I feared she might be disappointed, but I was also glad she was eager to start school herself in the Fall. The School System had determined that my daughter was way past Kindergarten, so she'd be starting 1st grade immediately. I'd started 1st grade when I was five, also.

"Okay, go get Grandma." I said. Carole ran to the house at breakneck speed. A moment later, Laura came out with Jim and strapped him into the child seat in the middle of the backseat. Carole's was on the left, behind the driver's side, and my mom would sit on the right side. I'd teased my mom about needing a child seat, and got a punch on the shoulder for it.

"I'm coming, dear, I'm coming." I heard my mother say. Then she and Carole appeared at the doorway. Laura went back in and set the alarm. I called the Duty Desk at Police Headquarters and told them I was officially out of here until Thursday, July 5th; they acknowledged and wished me a safe and happy trip.

"Okay, we got everything?" I asked.

"Even your swords." Laura said acerbically. Yes, they were coming with us. So was the red crowbar, my TCPD Badge, and my FBI Consultant badge... just in case. We hoped there would not be a 'just in case'.

"Why isn't Bowser coming, Daddy?" asked Carole.

"He and Buddy are guarding The Cabin and your brothers Ian and Ross." I said. "Molly, Cindy, and Callie are staying with them there, too." Indeed, the Cindy Clan and Molly's boys would require adult canine supervision, and would get it for the next few days. The dogs would get skritchins and lots of play with Ian and Ross.

We pulled out and worked our way through town, then onto the highway west to the State Line. As we crossed the State Line River, Carole began singing "Over the river and through the woods, to Grandmother's house we go..." Where had she learned that, I wondered? And not yet five years old for another month...

Part 2 - Going Home

"I hear her voice in the morning hour as she calls me, 
The radio reminds me of my home far away, 
Driving down the road I get a feeling 
That I should have been home yesterday, yesterday..." 
--- John Denver, 'Country Roads'

There were smudges on the left rear window. Carole had pressed her nose to that window many times as she watched out with avid interest at what was along the roads, the same as I'd done when I was a boy... always wondering what was out there, always loving riding on interstate highways.

As we came up the highway towards the town of Rome, I felt a sense of wariness creep into me. After all, this was my first visit back to Apple Grove since I'd helped the FBI (and the military) defeat Sheriff Spaulding and his insidious plans to murder every black person in Providence Springs. Both my mother and myself had heard good reports about things up here, and one of two reasons for our trip was a by-product of that liberation of Fillmore County.

"Is this Apple Grove, Daddy?" Carole asked as we came into Rome.

"No, Carole, this is Rome." I said as I turned left onto the road to Apple Grove. "We're almost there." I'd expected a ton of 'Are we there yet?', but Carole had been surprisingly good, only speaking out when she needed to use the potty.

We passed by the Sheriff Headquarters and County Jail on the left. "Look, Daddy!" said Carole. "They have a jail, too!"

"Yes, most counties have one." I said.

"Ours is bigger at home." said Carole astutely. "Is that because you bust more bad guys, Daddy?" That got Laura's eyes bulging, and my mom chuckled.

"I don't know, honey." I said. "We just have more people to begin with."

As we rode into Apple Grove, I pointed out the Elementary School. It looked a lot smaller than I remembered as a child. Carole was impressed. Then we went by the old Apple Grove High School building. It was now the Middle School for the County. A new Fillmore County High School had been built in the last couple of years, and now students from all parts of the county went to the high school together. And FCHS had won the State Championship in football the previous Fall. I considered that to be 'very cool'.

"Grandma, was Ap-ple Grove like this when you lived here?" asked Carole.

"In some ways, dear." said my mom. "And in some ways, it's changed. It seems smaller than it used to be. Some people have moved away. The entire Douglas clan, Don, after you busted them as part of Superior Bloodlines."

"Yeah." I said quietly. Some of the 'old white money' families had not liked the changes that had come to Apple Grove, and had left. I idly wondered if I should trace where they'd gone to... who knows what mischief they were making in their new locations...

"Where are we staying, Daddy?" asked Carole.

My mother answered "My old friend Mrs. Starnes owns a small house next to hers. You remember her daughter Cheryl Starnes, Don? She was Elizabeth's age."

"Oh yes, I remember." I said. Cheryl's son Kip Starnes had figured into one of my old cases. (Author's note: 'The Murdered Football Player'.)

We pulled into the drive of the small, two bedroom house. Phyllis went next door, and she and Mrs. Starnes hugged and talked like parakeets. They finally moseyed over with keys to our guest house. Carole very quickly determined that the potty facilities worked while I brought in luggage and Phyllis and Laura introduced Jim to Mrs. Starnes.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Mrs. Starnes had insisted on having us for lunch, and a few of my mother's old friends also were there. There was a great amount of gossip and catching up going on, and they were agog as my mother confirmed that Carole had been the little girl that was rescued from the exploding building the Christmas before.

"Why that poor child!" exclaimed Mrs. Starnes. "How traumatic!"

"She seems to be okay, though." said Laura. "She doesn't wake up crying from bad dreams or anything."

"So fortunate." said one of the old ladies. "A real miracle of the Lord. But you're used to those miracles after what you did here a few years ago, Donny, isn't that right?"

I smiled. "Well, I don't think I've done anything at the 'miracle' level yet." I said. "But I am thankful that my daughter and my Police Officer that saved her are all right."

The parakeets continued to flutter as I took Carole to get second helpings. Old ladies usually only make enough for everyone to have one portion, and children smaller portions. Growing girls like Carole exceeded those suppositions. There weren't too many leftovers, but Carole ate a full second portion of squash and a slice of ham. It is possible that she did not partake of the stringbeans.

"Oh, the big news nowadays is that farm deal that fell through." said one of the ladies as I got back to the table. "A group of young black men from Providence Springs were putting together financing to buy the old Phillips farm and the old Taylor farm next door, from the big company that had owned the farms. But it didn't go through. Seems a professor from State A&M looked at the soil for them after old Mr. Bennett asked him to. Mr. Bennett, he's the best farmer in the State. He tells the radio station when it's going to rain and when it's going to rain ugly, and they put it out on the airwaves because he's always right."

"Anyway," she continued, "he looked at that farmland, then the professor did some soil sampling, and said whatever fertilizer they'd used wasn't good, and might have done more harm than good. The boys buying the farm were going to get some soil testing done, and the company backed out of the deal. Paid the back-out fees to the Banks, too. Very strange, if you ask me." I glanced over at my mother, and she glanced back at me.

"When did this happen, ma'am?" I asked.

"Oh, the Policeman is now interested." said one of the other ladies.

"You bet." I said.

"It was about a month ago, Donny." said Mrs. Starnes. "The week before Memorial Day."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

My mom stayed to talk with the old ladies while I gave Laura and the kids a better tour of the area. We went through Downtown, seeing the rebuilt building with the pharmacy on the ground level, and I remembered Spaulding burning that building down after shooting Timmy Owens's dog Skippy. I wondered how Timmy and the dog I'd given him, Mr. Crowbar, were doing.

We went northeast, through streets with houses, coming up to one that was on the outskirts of town, and had rows of corn behind it and grassy space stretching to the east. A 'For Sale' sign by the front walk had an 'Under Contract' sign across it.

"Carole, Jim," I said, "this is the house where I grew up. Your grandma and grandpa's old house."

"Wowwww!" exclaimed Carole. The house was in good condition, I noticed.

"I guess we can't go inside, since it's under contract now." Laura said.

"Ohhhh, I think we can risk a quick look." I said. Perhaps it was the tone of my voice that caused Laura's eyes to cut sideways to me.

We went up into the screened-in front porch. I put in the code to the realtor's lockbox and extracted the key. "How do you know the code?" Laura asked.

"I called the realtor and asked them." I said as I opened the door. Carole raced in and was flying through the place as Laura, Jim and I took more time. Carole came flying by and said "Jim, let's go upstairs and see where Daddy's room was!" They rushed upstairs.

"How will she know which one it is?" Laura asked.

"I'll bet a dollar she figures it out." I said. A moment later, Carole came to the top of the stairs and said "Your room was on the left, and the end of the hall, wasn't it Daddy?"

"Did you tell her already?" Laura asked as we started up the stairs.

"Nope." I said.

"Carole," said Laura as we entered the bedroom at the far left, which indeed had been mine, "how did you know this was your Daddy's room?"

"It's painted red, and the other one is blue." said Carole, referring to the room connected by a common bathroom. "And no self-res-pect-ing Wild-cat would have a blue room." Laura just looked at me. I just laughed until it hurt.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

At the back left (northwest corner, as the front door faces south) of the house was the study/den/library room. The wall to the left as one entered, facing west, was mostly big glass windows with big french doors that had a criss-cross of windowpanes that matched the windows to either side. They looked out onto the porch (which carried around the side of the house from the front, all screened-in) and further along behind the house next door, giving a good view. The fireplace was centered on the back wall, facing me as I came into the room.

The room was empty except for the big mahogany desk at left and the chair behind it, facing the center of the room, guarding that view to the outside and facing away from it. It had been my father's desk at his law office, and was now bolted to the floor; hence it never being moved since being put in place after Todd had taken the original desk that had been here.

I felt a wave of nostalgia. I remember my dad sitting at that spot, constantly working on legal papers. I'd sit on the floor in front of the original desk, in the middle of the room, playing with toy trucks or balls or Legos. Sometimes I'd ask a question, like "Dad, why does the sun come up on that side of the house and go down on the other side?", and my dad would patiently answer the questions, never sending me out of the room even when he was very busy. In some ways, that was our time together.

Carole came into the room. "What's this room, Daddy?" she asked.

"This was where your grandfather would do his work." I said. "He'd sit at the desk and do paperwork."

"Oh." said Carole. She promptly went to the chair, climbed up on it, and then stood on it as she leaned over the desk. Another wave of nostalgia hit me... I was wishing my father could have met his granddaughter. I think he'd have been proud of her at this moment.

Having surveyed everything from her perch, Carole climbed back down. As she came up to me, she looked over at the fireplace. "What's that funny spot on the wall, Daddy?"

"What do you mean, honey?" I asked. She went over to the right side of the fireplace, and pointed to what looked like a barely-raised knot on the paneling.

"I don't know." I said. I pressed at the knot... and heard a *click!*

"Did you hear that, Daddy?" Carole asked. "Press it again." I did, but nothing happened. But I was already looking around the fireplace, and I saw a second knot just below the mantle of old wood. I pressed it.

*CLICK!*

"Look, Daddy!" Carole said happily, pointing up to under the mantle. A small square of wood had popped out from the wall!

I pulled it out, it was a tiny drawer. And I drew breath as I saw what was inside... two ancient Roman coins! They were identical to the one I had, and the one which Elizabeth had given Teresa. They were the last two of the four coins my great-grandmother had brought out of Germany while escaping the Nazis.

"What are those, Daddy?" Carole asked. I showed her.

"These are very old coins, like the one I showed you that belonged to your great-great-grandmother." I said. "And when you're a grown-up, I'll give you one of these to keep."

I replaced the little drawer in the wall, and heard two clicks as the locks re-engaged. I got out an evidence bag (yes, I had one on me; some habits are impossible to break) and put the coins inside. As Carole ran out of the room, I looked over at my father's desk, almost feeling his presence there. Did he put those coins there? Or my mother? Or someone else?...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

We went by the cemetery. I showed Carole and Jim where their grandfather's place in the mausoleum was. Carole looked sad.

"I think your grandfather in Heaven had you and Jim sent to us, because you're very special." I told my daughter. "And I'm glad he did."

"Meeeeee, too!" agreed Carole. Laura laughed, even though she had a tear in her eye...

Part 3 - Stories and Bloodlines

We went back to our guest house. I did not expect Carole to keep quiet about the coins we'd found. And I was watching my mother as Carole gushed out the story to everyone. My mom was shocked. I showed her the coins. "Identical to your grandmother's." I said. "These are the missing two of the four she brought out of Germany."

"You... you knew there were four?" asked my mother. "I never told anyone that."

"Someone told Elizabeth, because she knows. She had one of them." I said.

"Oh, of course." said Phyllis. "I saw that necklace on Teresa's neck when she came down the aisle. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. When did your sister give Teresa that?"

"In the tent, just before we came down for the procession." I said. "Yes, your daughter was right there, secretly watching her son get married."

"She's no daughter of mine." Phyllis spat, then caught herself. "I'm sorry, son, but there's little good I have to say about your sister."

"The State of Israel might not agree." I said, very much with intent and purpose in those words.

"That's the worst of it, son." my mother said. "We are a Christian family."

"With Jewish blood running through our veins... from my great-grandmother to your mother to you and to Elizabeth. To me, too, but we boys don't count." I said.

"Let's just... not have this conversation." said my mother. "So you found the coins in the house?"

"Yes." I said. "Carole found the first spring, and I found the second one to the hidden space they were in. Did you put them there?"

"No." said my mother. "I never knew where they went, any of them. I was surprised to find you and Elizabeth with two of them. My mother must've given them to Douglass for safekeeping, and he hid them. He never mentioned them, though."

My mother was completely rattled, though she tried to hide it. And I had to admit to being a bit rattled, myself. Surely my mother was not anti-Semitic? I thought to myself. She'd better get over it if she was...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Later that afternoon, Carole and Jim were asleep, tuckered out after the long drive and excitement of seeing Apple Grove. My mother was also 'resting her eyes', as she called it. Laura and I were sitting on the front porch in rocking chairs.

"So when do you close?" Laura asked.

"Tomorrow morning." I said, not allowing myself to show surprise at the question. Yes, I had bought my childhood home. Cash on the barrelhead.

"What are you going to do with it?" Laura asked.

"Rent it out, I guess." I said. "Or turn it into a bed-and-breakfast. There was a girl in the class right after mine. Her husband works in Rome. She saw the 'For Sale' sign and thought I owned it and was selling it, and that's how I found out about it. She was talking about buying a place for a bed-and breakfast facility."

"What in the world would support it?" Laura asked. "No disrespect, but your old town is dying, like a lot of small towns in America. There are no tourist attractions, and it's not like New England towns in the Autumn when the leaves turn. Just farms. And no real basis for industry to come in. Even Rome is struggling to keep its industries."

"That is true." I said agreeably. "Water supply has always been a problem in these here parts. But there are a couple of things being worked upon. First, you know the legend of the spring at Providence Spring?"

"You told me about it." Laura said. "Lightning struck the ground and water came up."

"Ever wonder where the water is coming from?" I asked.

"I'm very tempted to say something snarky, like 'from the ground'." said Laura. "But I won't... I won't... the hell I won't. It's coming from the ground."