Though I didn’t completely understand why, I didn’t want Tex Southern to be guilty of anything. Nevertheless, I hoped he would remain with Gril and Donner for at least a little while.
The dark clouds promised more snow or maybe rain, but none was falling yet. It would, probably when I least wanted it to. For now, I traveled the thirty minutes to Brayn confidently, the road mostly clear, or clear enough.
I drove directly to Tex Southern’s house and knocked on the door.
As I’d hoped, his mother answered. “Hello again,” she said, but not with a friendly tone. People were tired of me knocking on their doors today.
I paused a moment and then stuck my hand out. “My name is Beth Rivers.”
“My son told me your name.”
I took back my hand. “Right. May I come in, Grettl? I’d like to say hello to the girls if they’re here, but that’s not the real reason I’ve stopped by. I’d like to ask you a couple of questions.”
“No, I won’t invite you in,” she said. “The girls are upstairs, and I don’t know you. Tex doesn’t really know you. What right do you have to ask questions?”
“The girls know me and they trust me.”
“They’re children.”
I put my hands in my pockets and tried to see behind Grettl, but it was too dark.
“Exactly.” I paused. “Maybe I’ve just made them my business.”
We stared at each other, neither of us willing to blink.
I pulled my hands from my pockets and crossed my arms in front of myself. “Who’s their mother?”
She squinted and then sighed, giving up the battle much more quickly than I anticipated. “All right. Come in for a minute, Beth. But I’m only inviting you because I can see you might cause trouble for my son. There’s no need. He hasn’t done anything wrong.”
I followed her inside and heard faint noises from upstairs. Music played—something kids would enjoy, and I heard toys being scooted across the floor as well as being dropped on it. I didn’t hear any little-girl chatter, of course. I didn’t hear laughter or any of that strange screaming sound.
Grettl sat on the couch and nodded toward the chair. “Sit.”
I did as she instructed.
“I’m not exactly sure why the police want to talk to him, but he has done nothing wrong. I’m sure he will be home soon,” Grettl said.
“Okay.”
I waited. She knew why I was there, and she’d invited me in.
“It’s a simple story,” she said finally.
“Then why doesn’t Tex talk about it?”
Grettl frowned. “They are his girls. He loves them deeply. But he’s lived his life afraid that someone would take them from him.” She sighed again. “The girls were both adopted.”
“I see. A single man was able to adopt them? Is that why he’s concerned?” I asked.
“The girls were left here in town, at the post office, when they were about two years old. They were relinquished to the tribe by the birth mother, and she didn’t give us a specific birth date, but claimed the girls were fraternal twins.”
“Who was she? Where did she go?”
“No one knows,” Grettl said. “I was at the post office the day she brought them in. She said she was looking for a hospital but there wasn’t one close by. She said she couldn’t care for them, thought that maybe we could. She was hurt—an injury on her face—but she kept trying to hide it. She ran off before I could chase her—my priority quickly became making sure the girls were okay. The woman was long gone by the time I managed to get outside to see which way she’d gone.
“My son offered to pay for their care if a woman or a couple wanted to adopt them, but no one did. It’s a tough life out here, and many of us are poor. Tex offered to give them a home, agreed to allow our tribal leaders to visit and inspect. Time went on, and the girls just stayed. They are well taken care of. They are well loved.”
“May I ask what the state authorities did? Did they try to take them away, put them in an orphanage or foster home situation?”
“The Alaskan state authorities were never informed. We didn’t feel the need.”
My heart fell and soared at the same time. Surely, the girls’ situation hadn’t been handled appropriately. But Tex Southern had stepped up and taken care of them. They seemed healthy and happy.
“They’ve never spoken?” I asked.
“Mary spoke a little when they first arrived, but Annie didn’t. When Annie continued not to speak, Mary stopped talking, too.”
“That’s … that might have been helped,” I said.
“We’ve had them work with a speech therapist and it hasn’t helped.”
“Psychologists?”
“No.”
This wasn’t right, but maybe other solutions were worse.
“Why don’t you all just tell everyone the truth?” I asked.
Grettl frowned. “I see what you’re thinking. I see your judgment. Any time we’ve shared the truth, particularly to those outside the tribe, we’ve received the same judgment, as well as threats regarding contacting authorities. It’s best just to let everyone wonder.”
She wasn’t wrong. I didn’t mean to judge, but I was, even if it was silently and to myself. How had something like this happened? How had these girls fallen through the cracks so deeply? Where was their mother?
But I knew this sort of thing happened all the time. Maybe the details were different, the circumstances, the situations, but children fell through the cracks every day. And they weren’t always ultimately taken care of as well as Annie and Mary had been.
“Do you know anything else about their first two years?” I said.
“I don’t,” she said.
The fast pitter-patter of footfalls came from the stairs. I righted my expression so Annie and Mary wouldn’t think I was bothered.
Mary was the only one who emerged from the stairway. She held a doll and was looking at it with concern. She smiled when she looked up and saw me. She ran to me and hugged me genuinely.
“Hello,” I said as I pulled her close.
She pulled back and smiled and then took the doll to her grandmother. She pointed at the head, which was almost torn away from its neck.
“I can sew that,” Grettl said. “Why don’t you run up and get Annie to come down and say hello to our guest.”
Mary frowned and looked at Grettl. She shrugged and shook her head.
“What do you mean?” Grettl said.
Mary repeated the shrug and head shake. She tucked the doll under her shoulder and signed something.
“What?” Grettl stood and made her way around the child. Mary followed her, and then I followed behind them both.
We all jetted up the stairs and into the large children’s room.
“Annie?” Grettl said. There weren’t many places in the room to search, but she looked under the bed and behind the closet curtain. “Annie?”
Mary seemed suddenly concerned, too. She started to cry.
“Where is she?” Grettl said as she put her hands on the girl’s arms. “Where is she?”
Mary was too frightened to respond. I grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil and took them to Mary.
“Can you draw it?” I said.
Mary blinked at me and then took the paper and pencil. She sketched quickly, but her simple drawing was easy enough to translate.
She’d drawn a bear—but there was no doubt in my mind that the bear’s face was human.