96. Something Else for the Scrapbook

I’m persistent. I might not be a lot of things, but I am persistent.

More like stubborn and hardheaded like a mule.

I keep going to the Corner Nook even though nothing happens, but today for some reason it seems that my perseverance has paid off.

I’m doing what I always do, looking around at the books and buying an iced tea and sitting around waiting for something to happen. Waiting to see something that doesn’t belong. But up until now, nothing has happened. I haven’t seen a magical door open, letting in a bunch of bright and glowing angels.

Today, however, something does show up.

I’m near the back of the store where photographs and paintings by local artists are for sale. Some are leaning against the wall, stacked on top of each other. Others are framed and hanging up.

There’s a black-and-white shot of what looks like Indian Bridge, and all I can say is that it looks intense. Like everything is heightened. The shadows and the white and the blacks all feel etched with chalk or in stone. It’s a perfect photo because it fits the mood of this bridge.

Wonder if the photographer knew it’s haunted.

As I study the picture, I notice a necklace dangling off the ledge the photo is resting on.

I lean in, wondering if it’s part of the photo. When I see what’s written on the heart locket, I quickly reach out and grab it. I stick it in my pocket and then take a few minutes to calm down. My heart is racing and I’m trying—hoping—to make sure nobody saw me snatch the piece of jewelry.

I have a good feeling the owners have no idea about this.

In fact, I’d bet my life on it.

Later on at home, I examine the locket. It’s heavy. The thick round piece held up by the necklace may be gold, but it’s dull and faded. It takes me a while of playing around with it before I manage to open the locket, revealing a picture of a baby on one side and a date etched on the other.

I hold it up close and look at the name on the outside again: Indigo Jadan Kinner.

And on the inside: May 28, 1963.

I try to remember anybody mentioning this name. I’m not even sure if it’s a boy or a girl. This baby is older than Mom and Uncle Robert.

A sibling they might not know about?

I decide to ask Mom. I’ve spent enough time keeping secrets from her. Maybe everything would have been better from the start if I had told her about all that was happening.

Or maybe that would have made things even worse.

I sit on the couch as she’s watching a cable show on cooking.

“What’s up?” she asks.

“Does the name Indigo Kinner mean anything to you?”

She shakes her head and looks puzzled. “No. Where’d that come from?”

I show her the necklace. She asks me where I found it, and I tell her the Corner Nook. I don’t say how it was just hanging there in plain daylight as if a ghost put it there.

Nor do I tell her about the picture it was hanging from.

“This looks real,” Mom says.

“I know.”

She says the name over and over. “I never heard of an Indigo Kinner. There weren’t too many Kinners around.”

“Maybe an older brother or sister you didn’t know about?”

“I don’t think so. Mom would have been—let’s see.” She does the numbers in her head. “She would have been eighteen when this baby was born.”

“She left home and got knocked up.”

Mom shakes her head and gives me a Yeah right look. “There’s no way. We would have heard.”

“Think Aunt Alice knows?” I ask.

“Last time I visited her, I don’t think she knew what planet she was on.”

I can’t help but laugh as I recall the first time I met Aunt Alice. Mom and I are both laughing, which is pretty nice and pretty rare in this little cabin.

“Can I keep it?” I ask Mom.

“If you want. Why?”

“I have a little collection of random things I’ve found around Solitary. I’m going to create a scrapbook.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yeah, sure. It’s going to be like red and have animal fur covering the outside and—”

“Stop.” Mom hands me the piece of jewelry. “What a strange name,” she says.

“Maybe it’s some kind of Indian name.”

I slip the piece into my pocket and decide to ask Aunt Alice myself. Sometime.

I have to be in the right mood to go visit the crazy house that belongs to my great-aunt.

Then again, maybe Walter Kinner knows this baby. Maybe it’s his.

Maybe it’s one that ran away but in the end is going to come out of the woods riding a white horse and save us all from something.

I doubt it. The white horse and saving part.

The something happening, however … I still know that’s going to occur.