The Last Daughter (Tales of the Scrimshaw Doll) (4 page)

“No, I have another idea. Why don’t we walk over to this place I found a few blocks away before you came? You’ve been here three days and haven’t been out of the house. You’re starting to look a little pale.”

The idea appealed to her. Like a child, she clasped her hands together in anticipation.

Trent smiled. “Want to walk or ride? It’s just a few blocks.”

“We can walk but let me get a snack for the hike.” Within seconds, she’d filled a plastic bag with animal crackers and munched them the whole way. The wind was fierce. Their hair blew haphazardly in every direction. An animal cracker actually blew out of Rayna’s hand.

“This is crazy!” She turned and walked backwards, her thick dark hair flying around her face.

Laughing, Trent pointed at her. “You look like an underwater mermaid in a tsunami.”

“Aren’t all mermaids underwater?” she teased then hit at him playfully. “I read that it’s always windy like this. I wonder if all the women in Oklahoma wear short hair.”

Trent started singing “Oklahoma” at the top of his lungs, getting especially loud during the “wind sweeping down the plain” part. He finished the chorus before he pointed at her hair blowing around her face. “You want to go back?”

“Of course not—too hungry.”

“You’ve probably ruined your lunch scarfing down all those animal crackers.”

“Hors d’oeuvres,” she answered and smacked her lips. “Someday I’d like to go to Bricktown. I read about it online.”

“You know more about this place than I do, and I’ve been here several days longer. Bricktown will have to wait. Today it’s The Red Cup. Come on, race you.”

Trent took off, and Rayna fell hot on his trail. She laughed and shoved him like a kid on a playground. By the time they got to the quaint little restaurant, she felt as if she’d been through a tornado, tattered and windblown. And Trent certainly looked it with his thick unruly hair. Thankfully, they fit right in with the crowd; The Red Cup wasn’t the kind of place with a dress code. In fact, it looked like a throwback from the 60s, and Rayna loved the atmosphere. She ordered vegetarian Frito pie, and explored the original artwork on the walls. Trent talked her into topping off the experience with coffee and pastries. When they were finished, Trent playfully begged her to go get the car and come back for him. They both wished they’d driven.

They walked at a leisurely pace, letting the wind push them back up the hill to the Wounded Heart.

“I appreciate your hard work. You’ve come in quite handy,” Trent said, kicking a rock out of his path.

“How so?” she asked, figuring he would compliment her ability to work fast and quietly.

She was surprised when he said, “Someone to share a laugh and meals with. It’s been awhile since I’ve done that with anyone other than family.”

“Family. I’d give almost anything to have what you’re taking for granted, or should I say what you just disparaged. “

“Disparage my family? Never. But there’s a difference in breaking bread with your parents and doing it with a pretty girl.”

Rayna’s skin heated, yet she rubbed her bare arms as if she were cold. She looked up at the sky and pointed. “Look at the birds! There are so many of them.”

“Look at that stranger stealing my garbage—or is he a friend of yours?”

Rayna cut her eyes toward the house. Sure enough, a tall man in a white tee shirt heaved their trash bags into the back of his truck. “Why would he be a friend of mine? I don’t know anyone around here. Are you saying you don’t trust me?”

Trent glanced at her. “Most of the time I do,” he answered, “but I stay alert to odd happenings.”

“I think you’re an odd happening,” she teased, then waved at the man who was now standing beside the blue truck, watching them. He looked to be in his early thirties and wore a faded red baseball cap. He didn’t wave back, but he kept his eyes on Rayna until they got closer and Trent spoke to him.

“Can I help you?”

Rayna detected suspicion in Trent’s voice.

The man glanced once more at Rayna then motioned to the stack of bags. “Can I haul these off for you? No charge.”

Trent pursed his lips. “I’ve never known anyone to do anything for free. What’s your game?”

Rayna pushed him jokingly. “Trent, how rude! Not everyone has a game. Maybe he’s just doing a good deed for a new neighbor. You
are
a new neighbor, you know.”

The stranger nodded at her. “You from Louisiana?” he asked. When her eyes grew wide, he motioned to the Louisiana license plate on her car.

“No,
I’m
from Louisiana and
she’s
from Texas.”

“Trent, don’t lie to him!”

“Why would he assume you’d drive a car instead of a truck?”

Rayna shook her head and laughed. “Don’t mind him, and we’d appreciate you hauling off the trash. We wouldn’t know where to take it, would we, Trent, or even what day the garbage men come.”

“Yeah you can have all the garbage you want. It’s all free. And there’ll be more next week and the week after. That is...if you’re doing a good deed for a new neighbor.”

The guy nodded again and heaved the remainder of the black bags into his truck.

“You go help him,” Rayna whispered. “And be nice.”

Trent winked at her and did as he was told.

****

Late evening they were still sorting, listing, filing, and researching. Rayna stood and stretched her back. “This is pretty tedious work.”

“Don’t think you’re getting paid enough?” Trent teased.

“I’m not complaining. My payment will be when I find something else that links me to this place.”

“What do you mean something else? What links you?”

Her hand flew to her chest, and she turned her back to him. “I meant something other than my strong feeling.”

“No, I think you found something. In your room? What was it?”

She shrugged. “There was a comb and brush set in the dresser drawer. I got a flash of a woman brushing her long hair, but I couldn’t see her face so...I’m not sure that counts as anything really.”

“Of course it counts if you’re having flashes of memory. That’s great. But what if that’s all you ever get—just flashes?”

She was shaking her head before he even completed his sentence. “I’ll get more. I’ll find something.”

“And if you don’t?”

“I will.”

“But if you don’t?” he challenged.

“Why are you being so negative? I know I will. I can feel it.” She stood in the middle of the room.

“Are you doing your all-encompassing circle dance again?”

She laughed and held out her arms, turned slowly in a circle. “I know you think it’s silly but I can really feel it, Trent. I’ve lived in this house. I don’t know when or for how long, but I know it for certain. And I
know
I’m not manufacturing these vibes.”

He grinned. “Good, I’m glad.”

“Why?”

“I think those vibes are because you enjoy having me as a roomie.”

“Aw, Trent.” She laughed, crossed the room, and kissed him on the cheek. It was an affectionate you’re-a-great-pal type kiss, but when she saw the intense look on his face she regretted doing it. His eyes darkened, grew serious. She was certain he was going to speak, say something he couldn’t take back.
Too soon. Too soon. Not yet
. Feeling anxious, confused, she turned away from him and pointed to the wall paper.

“So what’s the plan for those huge green and brown leaves? Got one?”

He cleared his throat and moved away from her. “If you see a good place for a tight finger grip, start tearing. I’ve been wondering what’s underneath that hideous design.”

“Seriously?” she asked. When he nodded, Rayna moved to a window and studied the yellowed paper closely. Within seconds, she’d worried a corner loose and tore it away. “Another hideous design,” she said. “My goodness.” She busied herself along the window frame. “Trent, we’re going to have to rent a steamer. There are at least three different wall papers and could be more. Come see this.”

Trent joined her, watched her tear until a third one was visible.

“See. That one’s ancient—and sealed tight.”

He shrugged. “I think we can probably use some warm water and wallpaper removal solvent to get this one off. Might be a good change of pace.”

“Yeah, a non-thinking job.”

“And tomorrow we’ll have a fresh pile of trash for your new boyfriend.”

She looked at him, puzzled, but then it registered that he was talking about the man in the blue truck.

“Shame on you! He was nice.”

“He was intense.”

“Yeah, well, he was nice and intense. Nothing wrong with that.”

“He sure had eyes for you. Gave me the heebie jeebies.” He gave an exaggerated shiver, and when she laughed, he did it again.

“You are so mean! He’s not any creepier than you are, Trent Jones!”

He grabbed her around the waist and spun her to him. “Oh, so you think I’m creepy, do you?”

“You’re getting that way.” She giggled and pulled away. To her surprise and disappointment, he let her. “Seriously, did you think he was weird? As in maybe not quite right...or dangerous?”

He shook his head. “Probably just a hard working trash man. He was pretty taken with you though. And no way can you argue with that. Just to be safe, don’t invite him in the house if you’re ever here by yourself.”

Rayna shivered for real. She hated to think the man might be dangerous. To her, he just looked sad, maybe lonely. There was something in his eyes that said he’d seen horrible things.

She tugged another strip of paper off the wall, and then another. It felt good, as if she were tugging away the layers of her life and would soon get to the root of who she really was.

Chapter 3

The wind whipped tree limbs against her third story window. Rayna lay in bed and listened to the sounds Mother Nature made. Oklahoma was certainly different from Louisiana. So far, they’d been under two tornado watches and one warning; she’d only had to go into the first floor closet once. They’d huddled together with sofa cushions over their heads. Trent had told her stories of his childhood, crazy antics he and his siblings had indulged in. His voice had become soft, serious when he told her about his father passing away and his mother rallying the kids, vowing to teach them how to take care of themselves, insisting they all do their part to support the family. Since he was the baby, his part wasn’t as demanding.

“On second thought, maybe you really are spoiled,” she’d told him.

He’d acted as if she’d wounded him and pressed his hand against his heart. He was definitely the entertainer.

Getting out of bed, she shuffled to the window and looked outside. One lonely streetlight shone down on the few bags they’d put outside this evening; one of them had come open, and litter blew everywhere.
The neighbors will love that.
As soon as the thought left her brain, a blue truck pulled up and parked at the curb.

“What in the world?” she muttered.

The man got out of his vehicle and grabbed the open bag spewing paper and trash. With long strides, he gathered up all the debris, examining each piece closely before he stuffed it back inside. What was he looking for? He picked up something, studied it, then crammed it in his pocket. Within seconds, he’d tossed the garbage bags into his truck and sped away. He was spying on them. Going through their garbage in search of something specific. Maybe he was into identity theft.

“Trent is right,” she mumbled. “Intense and creepy.” She crawled back into bed and went to sleep, dreaming of her personal history tossed about by the Oklahoma wind.

****

As usual, Trent gripped a huge mug of coffee and was sitting at his customary spot at the scarred kitchen table.

“Morning, sleepy head. Get a good night’s sleep?” he asked when she entered.

Rayna rubbed her face. “Not really. The wind woke me. When I fell back asleep, I dreamed the guy in the blue truck came and got all the trash bags.”

“Wasn’t a dream,” Trent said. “He really did.”

“It wasn’t a dream? Why would he do that? It was after one o’clock.” She poured a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter.

“There’s something about our trash that fascinates him. Maybe I should reassess. Maybe the real fortune is in the garbage not the house and antiques.”

“You might have something there.” She popped some bread into the 4-slice toaster, got jam out of the fridge, and waited. As soon as the toast popped up, she spread on butter and jam, and put the two plates on the table. They’d established their routine quickly. Tomorrow morning it would be his turn to fix her an omelet with black olives and cheese. Trent loved to cook.

“So what’s on the agenda today?” she asked.

“Your choice: wall paper or more inventory and stuff.”

She shrugged. “I’ll take the stuff.”

He tilted his head while he chewed. “You don’t seem too perky. What’s up?”

She slumped in the chair. “I’ve been here almost three and a half weeks now. I haven’t found a thing. Not even a clue. At least, not a real one.”

“We’re still on the ground floor. We have a lot of books to thumb through and drawers to open.”

Trent’s encouragement didn’t work this time.

“I know. I just thought—I guess I expected to find stuff in every drawer, a birth certificate, pictures, someone’s marriage license or something—anything that would help me track down family.”

Trent reached across the table and took her hand. “Don’t give up so soon. If it’s here, we’ll find it. If it’s not, then it’s not. You’re who you are now—not who you were then.” He cocked his head. “Yeah, that makes sense. Doesn’t it?”

She laughed. “In a weird sort of way.” She squeezed his hand then let it go. “Let’s get to work. Maybe today I’ll strike pay dirt.”

“You’ll strike dirt all right. This place is filthy.”

They didn’t break until one-thirty, and then only because Trent complained that he needed food or he would die of starvation. Instead of cooking, he volunteered to run to the nearest fast food joint for burgers, shakes, and fries. When he returned, Rayna was sitting on the front steps, an envelope in her hand.