Molly headed upstairs to see if Grace needed help with the rooms. The washing machine was already sloshing a load around, and the door to Adam’s room was open, the cleaning cart parked in front of it.
“Grace,” Molly called into the room. “You need any help in here?”
“I’m almost finished. You could fold the towels in the dryer, though, if you’re just dying for something to do.”
“All right.” Molly was heading toward the laundry room when her phone buzzed with an incoming text. She checked the screen. Adam. Her heart gave a little flutter, which she quickly attributed to excitement about their little project.
New development in Project Lost Letter. I found Lizzie’s birth date at the church. Heading to the library to see what else I can find.
It didn’t seem like much of a find, but if he thought so, it must be significant.
She opened the dryer door and began folding the fluffy white towels. Could the new detail lead to a current place of residence?
She continued folding, and by the time she had the towels stacked in the linen closet, she’d made a decision. She pulled out her phone and tapped on Adam’s number.
The phone rang twice before he answered in a hushed tone. “Hello?”
“Hi, Adam, it’s Molly.”
“Why are you whispering?” His voice held a note of amusement.
“Because you are.”
When she laughed at herself he joined in.
“So you found Lizzie’s birth date?” she asked.
“It was in the church’s records. That’s a very helpful detail.”
She sensed hesitancy in his tone but pushed it aside. “Listen, Adam, will you be working on this for a while today?”
“Ah, yes, until lunch at least.”
“Reason I ask is because it’s my day off. I was wondering if you’d mind some company?”
There was a pause, and Molly winced. She’d just barreled across another line, hadn’t she? She should start paying mind to Levi’s warnings. “Listen, I shouldn’t have—”
“I’d love that, actually,” he blurted.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose. It’s so nice of you to look into this for me, and I know you have your own work to do. I can be a real pain in the butt, according to my brother.”
“Not at all.” She heard a smile in his voice. “I’d love the help.”
“That’s a bit of a stretch. But I’ll bring my laptop and maybe you can show me what to do. Or I can hunt down books or microfilm in the library—that I’m good at.”
“Come down whenever you want. I’m at the little table behind the fiction section.”
Molly smiled. “I know just the spot.”
* * *
Adam couldn’t focus at all once he got off the phone. Molly didn’t really say when she’d be coming, so every time he heard the muted sound of footsteps on the carpet he looked up, expecting her.
He was excited at the thought of seeing her, of spending a little time together away from the inn. But he was going to have to tell her what he’d found after their phone call, and he dreaded that.
He drew in a breath, loving the musty smell of old books, the sound of hushed voices, and the quiet flutter of turning pages.
He went back to his search, using his laptop, but he was coming up empty. He’d hit a wall, and he wasn’t sure where to go next.
At the sound of a nearby shuffle he looked up and spied Molly walking down the aisle toward him, her smile widening when she spotted him.
“Hi,” she whispered, seating herself across from him at the study table. She dumped her purse and laptop bag in front of her.
“Hello yourself.”
She looked so pretty with the daylight from the nearby window washing over her creamy skin. Her shiny hair was down around her shoulders, falling from a side part, obscuring the corner of an eye. She wore a breezy white shirt with shoestring lacing at the top.
“How’s it going?” she asked quietly as she settled her purse on the back of the chair and began removing her laptop. “Find anything new? I’m really good at library research, so if you need any help finding books or articles, I’m your—what? Why are you looking at me like that?”
He’d hoped to break it to her gently. He searched for the right words, but as was typical when he was speaking with a pretty woman, they were nowhere to be found. He should’ve texted it to her—the written word was his friend. But that seemed so cold.
“You found something, didn’t you? Something bad. What is it? Did Benjamin die in the war? Tell me.”
He had to put her out of her misery. “It’s not Benjamin. It’s Lizzie. But yes, she appears to have died.”
The dread on her face was instantly extinguished, replaced by despondency, the depths of which seemed remarkable given that she’d never even met the woman. But he’d fully expected this reaction. He wondered how, when he’d only known Molly for a week.
“I’m sorry. I know you’re disappointed. I am too.”
“Are you sure it’s her? Maybe it’s someone else.”
“I found the cemetery where she’s buried. Once you have a birth date, it really narrows things down.”
Her shoulders sank two inches. “We’re too late. If only I’d found the letter earlier.”
He shook his head. “She passed away a long time ago. Before you were even born.”
“Oh.” Her eyes became glassy. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why this is hitting me so hard.” She pressed a knuckle at the corner of her eye. “Who am I kidding? I’ve always been a bleeding heart.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.” It was one of the things he liked about her. “I couldn’t find out much about her life, but she died when she was only thirty-five.”
“So young!”
Across the way, another patron gave them a look over the top of her readers.
Molly lowered her voice. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. I’m sorry it’s not better news, Molly.”
“She probably died thinking he didn’t love her.”
“We don’t know that. He could’ve gotten in touch with her on his own before he left for war.”
“That doesn’t seem likely.” Molly might be an optimist, but apparently not at the expense of reality.
“If not, she probably fell in love again and got married. She had sixteen years between writing the letter and her death. She may have had many happy years after Benjamin left.”
“That’s true, I guess.”
“I could probably find out a lot more about her life, but as soon as I realized she was gone, I switched to researching Benjamin. I was hoping to find some good news there before I had to tell you about Lizzie. Would you like me to find out more about her? Would it set your mind at ease?”
Molly shook her head adamantly. “No. I—I think I’d rather move on to Benjamin. I’d still like him to know what happened to Lizzie—that she’d changed her mind and tried to let him know. If he’s still living, that is.”
“That’s what I thought.”
She looked like a child who’d just dropped her ice cream cone on the pavement and didn’t have enough coins for another.
“Listen, Molly, I know this isn’t what you’d hoped to find, but all is not lost. Maybe we can still help Benjamin find some closure.”
After a thoughtful moment Molly gave her head an abrupt shake, and just like that her countenance changed. It wasn’t the beaming expression she wore as comfortably as yoga pants and a T-shirt. But there was a resolve to maintain a positive outlook. It showed the kind of inner stuff every heroine came equipped with.
“You’re right,” she said. “You’re exactly right. We’ll focus our efforts on Benjamin. He deserves to know the truth.”
“Thata girl,” he said, feeling unreasonably proud of her. His face grew warm at his unwarranted familiarity. He started to put his hands over his keyboard.
But before he could move, she set her hand over his. “Thank you, Adam. Whatever we find isn’t your fault; it’s just what happened. You can’t change the past. And whatever happened, I’m sure God has His reasons for it.”
“Exactly right,” he managed, though the warm softness of her hand on his muddled his brain and made the words more air than substance.
She gave his hand a squeeze before releasing it. “So have you been able to find anything else about Benjamin?”
“Unfortunately, I haven’t. There are a lot of Benjamin Schwartzes out there. It would be helpful to find a middle name, birth date, or place of birth. We know he was here in Bluebell for at least one summer in ’64, and we’re reasonably sure he went to war that same year, but we don’t know which branch. I’ve been looking at military records—we have an approximate age—but I’m not finding much.”
“What can I do?”
“You could continue looking through old newspapers for his name. I left off on the third week of May 1964.”
“Good idea. Back in the day they put all kinds of personal and social events in the paper. Even when and where people were going on vacation and when somebody was moving from one address to another.”
“Well, maybe you’ll stumble across something then.”
And there was that beaming smile. “I’m on it.”
* * *
Ordinarily, Molly could happily read old newspapers for hours. But Adam’s news had left her unreasonably depressed. She felt stupid for shedding tears over a woman she’d never even met. What was wrong with her?
She got settled at the microfilm reader and forced herself to the task at hand, starting where Adam had left off. Back then Bluebell’s paper ran twice a week, and she skimmed article after article looking for Benjamin’s name.
As she read she delighted in all the delicious details of the daily lives of Bluebell residents, occasionally recognizing business names or surnames. The Randalls were going to Florida on vacation to visit Mrs. Randall’s family. The Dorsetts were celebrating the birth of their first grandbaby—a girl. Pastor Frank was adding another weekly service to accommodate the summer people.
Molly got so swept up in the stories she had to keep reminding herself to focus on the task at hand. She found no mention of Benjamin through the end of May, but he likely hadn’t come until Memorial Day weekend.
It wasn’t until the first edition in June when her eyes stumbled upon some familiar names. Her eyes became greedy, taking in the article and the grainy photo. She jumped up from her chair and rushed to Adam’s table, her heart pounding.
Somehow it hadn’t felt quite real until now. Until she’d seen the names in the paper, in black and white. Benjamin had really been here in Bluebell. Had really fallen in love with Lizzie. The fire that had already kindled inside became a raging inferno. They had to see this through. Even though Lizzie was gone, they still had a responsibility to find and tell Benjamin.
Adam looked up at her approach, his expression turning hopeful as his eyes lingered on her face. “Find something?”
She couldn’t hold back the smile. “Come take a look.”