Finding Libbie
Authors: Deanna Lynn Sletten
OTHER TITLES BY
DEANNA LYNN SLETTEN
Maggie’s Turn
Walking Sam
Memories
Sara’s Promise
Widow, Virgin, Whore
Destination Wedding
Summer of the Loon
Kiss a Cowboy
A Kiss for Colt
Kissing Carly
Outlaw Heroes
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2016 Deanna Lynn Sletten
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Lake Union Publishing, Seattle
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Lake Union Publishing are trademarks of
Amazon.com
, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781503937154
ISBN-10: 1503937151
Cover design by LEADesign
CONTENTS
PART ONE
JACK AND LIBBIE
CHAPTER ONE
You never know what the day will bring,
Emily Prentice thought as she stepped outside her town house into the May sunshine. It was something her grandma Bev always said, and for some reason, those words were echoing in her thoughts this morning.
As she walked to her car in the driveway, she inhaled the cool spring air—a delight after the long months of a northern Minnesota winter. She hopped into her Jeep and drove off through the quiet neighborhood until she turned onto the main road that ran south through town.
Unable to resist the fresh air, Emily opened the window a crack and let it rush across her face. A stray blond hair escaped her ponytail, and she swirled it behind her ear with her fingertip as her blue eyes kept vigil on the traffic around her. It was early morning and cars were rushing about the town of Jamison on their way to school, work, shopping, or any other number of destinations. By now, the local Walmart parking lot would be filling up, as would the Target. School parking lots would be mass confusion as parents dropped off children, and in an hour, the mall would open and shoppers would make their way there. Emily was happy that she wasn’t joining the throngs of people in any of those places. She was headed to the other side of town to her grandmother’s farmhouse, where, at least for the time being, it was still peaceful.
Emily followed the road that ran beside beautiful Lake Ogimaa. The area was rich in Ojibwa culture. She loved the Ojibwa words used to name the local landmarks; in this case, the lake’s name meant “chief.” The blue water sparkled in the morning sunshine. The ice had finally melted, and it was refreshing to see the open water. The lake’s shore was trimmed with expensive homes on the north bank, resorts on the east bank, and the local park on the west bank where she was driving now. She continued on past Jamison State College, which had sat on the south shore of the lake since the early 1900s, and continued farther south where old farms were slowly being sold off and turned into housing developments to satisfy the needs of a growing community.
Less than thirty-five years ago, housing developments hadn’t been necessary for the sleepy town whose only saving graces were the tourists visiting the resorts in the summer and the college students in the winter. The downtown stores supplied all the necessities, and the three gas stations took turns being open on Sundays. Back then, as it had been for over one hundred years, two families owned the majority of the businesses in town—the Wilkenses and the Jamisons—and if one more Wilkens had lived in the town at the time of its incorporation in 1898, the town would have been named Wilkens instead. Of course, that had been a bone of contention between the two families for over a century.
But all that had happened before Emily was born thirty years ago, and she didn’t remember how the town looked before the mall opened, the chain department stores bought out the old fairgrounds, or the many franchised restaurants filled the strip between the lake and the mall. She only knew about it from the stories passed down by her grandmother and her father of how the town used to be.
The traffic thinned out as Emily left the southern tip of Jamison and headed to the new suburbs where nice, modestly priced homes were being built on one-acre lots in a maze of streets. Farther down the road from those, she turned right on old County Road 9, which had been renamed Valley View Drive years ago but which locals still called by its original name. Soon, she was driving past open farmland separated by clumps of pines and scattered oak and birch trees. The fields were just beginning to turn green and sat untended because no one farmed here anymore. Some of the land was still used for grazing horses, but most of it was just sitting there, waiting to be plucked up by the highest bidder to turn it into an oasis of two-story houses with four bedrooms, two and a half baths, and a family/media room. The world had closed in on Jamison, and although growth was welcomed by many, it was resented by those who’d lived there the longest.
Emily gazed around her at the open fields that would soon be dotted with houses. Her heart ached at the thought that this would all be gone soon. No more would there be the sweet smell of fresh-cut hay in the summer or wide-open land where deer grazed and eagles hunted. Century-old farmhouses would be bulldozed, all of the memories inside them brushed away in an instant. Progress was necessary, but Emily wished that some things would never change.
A small rail fence on the left marked the beginning of the Prentice farmland, and Emily smiled when she saw her grandmother’s farmhouse in the distance amidst a grove of trees. As she drew nearer, the two front windows on the second floor winked at her like two friendly eyes, and the screened-in porch below them spread across the front of the house like a smile. Many old farmhouses looked creepy, but her grandmother’s always looked cheerful and welcoming.
Emily turned her car left and drove up the long gravel driveway past old oak trees that spread out their limbs like welcoming arms and tall spruce trees that stood at attention high up into the sky. An old, faded red barn sat off in the distance, and the small chicken coop beside it sagged a bit to the left. A large building that had once been her grandfather’s woodworking shop now sat silent and empty. Since the death of Grandpa Norm in 1998, the outbuildings were no longer being tended to, but the house still looked as clean and fresh as always. Her grandmother might be going on eighty-four, but she was as active as when Emily was a little girl tromping the fields alongside her on her daily walk.
Emily pulled her car up to the back of the house and parked under a maple tree. Stepping out, she looked around slowly, memorizing every bit of the land and the house. Just as her neighbors had done, Emily’s grandmother had sold off the farm to developers, and in a year or so, the farmland and house would be a distant memory. Emily felt like all her childhood memories had been sold along with it. She’d never again walk the fields with her grandmother, never explore the inside of the musty old barn, and never be able to bring her own children here—when she had them—to relive the past. The past would be gone forever.
Sighing, Emily walked toward the back mudroom, but before she reached the door, her grandmother opened it and smiled down at her. Emily couldn’t help but smile back. Her grandmother’s charm was too sweet to ignore.
“There’s my Emily,” Beverly Prentice said, standing in the doorway and wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. “You’re in time for my homemade sweet rolls. They’re just out of the oven. And I’ll even make you one of your sweet coffees with that fancy machine you all gave me for Christmas.”
Emily took the three steps up into the mudroom as her grandmother moved aside to let her in. The two women hugged, and Emily felt comforted by her familiar scent. She smelled of spices from baking and flowery fabric softener that lingered on her soft cotton blouses. To Emily, it was the smell of love.
Emily slipped off her sneakers, and the two women walked into the tiny hallway and took a right into the small country kitchen. Emily inhaled deeply. The sweet aroma of rolls made her mouth water.
“You’re going to make me fat,” Emily said, taking down two plates and retrieving the forks and napkins. “Did it occur to you that maybe I’d already eaten breakfast?”
Bev shook her head. “I’ll bet you haven’t. And a couple of sweet rolls aren’t going to put an ounce of fat on your lean body.” She bustled around the kitchen, turning on the coffee machine and selecting her granddaughter’s favorite coffee packet to put in it.
Emily watched her as she took down mugs. She swore her grandmother had more energy than she did. Even though her grandmother complained of slowing down, Emily had yet to see any sign of it. She was two inches shorter than Emily’s own five-foot-six frame, and she had just enough padding on her to look healthy. Today, she wore a pale-pink blouse and brown knit slacks with a pair of tan Keds. Her face had been kissed by time, with each wrinkle earned from smiles and worry, but her blue eyes still shined brightly and sparkled with delight at the simplest of things. It was a sweet face that cast its spell instantly over anyone lucky enough to meet her. Her quick smiles and easy ways made people want to sit down and confide in her, and throughout her life, many had.
Once the coffee was poured, Bev and Emily took their treat out into the dining room and sat at the oval oak table. The room held a matching hutch on one side and three large windows that looked out into the fields where her grandfather’s cows had once grazed. When Emily was younger, she’d often sit here in early mornings or evenings and watch as white-tailed deer grazed in among the cows. Now the view held only spring grass starting to sprout out of the untended land.
Emily bit into her sweet roll and sighed. It was warm, sweet, and gooey, and it was perfect.
“You’re a sweetheart to help your old grandma pack up this house,” Bev said, her eyes sparkling at Emily. “It’s going to be a big job, going through generations of things in this old farmhouse.”
“I’m happy to help, Grandma. We have all summer to do it, so it won’t be too bad. We can take one room at a time.” Emily glanced around her. “What do you think Grandpa would say about the family farm being sold off to developers? Would he be sad?”
Bev shook her head. “Your grandfather was the one who told me to do it years ago. He said, ‘Bevie, don’t you worry about this old place when I’m gone. You sell it off to the highest bidder and live it up.’”
Emily laughed. “Is that what you’re going to do, Grandma? Live it up?”
Bev chuckled. “Well, first off I’m going to move into that little town house two blocks over from yours, and then we’ll see. I might do a little traveling, take a cruise with some of my old lady friends, and maybe even go on some of those casino bus trips. It’ll be nice not having to worry about this big house anymore.”
Emily smiled. “You do deserve to have some fun.”
Bev began stacking the dirty plates to carry into the kitchen. “So, dear, how is that young man of yours? Will he be finished with school this spring?”
Emily hid her grin. She knew her grandmother didn’t approve of her boyfriend, but she always asked politely what he was up to. Emily met Jordan Reardon in their first year at Jamison State College, and they had started living together in the town house by the end of their second year. Emily had quit college after finishing her general education requirements because she hadn’t yet figured out what to major in and couldn’t afford to waste the money. But Jordan had known exactly what course he’d wanted to pursue—a PhD in English literature, eventually obtaining a position as a college professor. So he’d continued his education, while Emily had taken a full-time job at a department store in the mall. That was almost ten years ago, and she was still at the store—albeit now as a manager in the women’s clothing department—and Jordan was at the college, working as a teaching assistant and also taking classes for his doctoral degree.
Her grandmother’s disapproval of Jordan had nothing to do with his character—he was a good man and a hard worker—it was the fact that Emily had supported him while he pursued his many degrees, making it impossible for her to go back to school. Emily didn’t mind helping him, since she still didn’t know what she wanted to do with her life. She didn’t necessarily like her job at the store, but at least it paid the bills. She figured Jordan would be finished with school at some point and earning a decent income, and then maybe she could go back to college.
“He’s still working toward his PhD,” Emily replied calmly, as she helped her grandmother wash and dry the few dishes. “But he’s been teaching a few undergraduate classes and he should be finished by the end of next year.”
“My, but it takes a long time to get through college these days,” Bev said, shaking her head. “What about you, dear? Will you be going back to college sometime soon?”
Emily sighed. “I’m not sure, Grandma. I still don’t know what I want to do. I’ll just work until I figure it out.”
“Well, you’re a smart girl. You’ll figure something out,” Bev said with certainty.
Emily wished she felt as certain as her grandmother.
Bev placed her hands on her hips. “Well, dear, where shall we start? The basement, main floor, upstairs, or attic?”
Emily thought a moment. They were going to pack up the items her grandmother wanted to take with her to the town house, then separate out the larger items for either storage or to sell. Her father and brother would come and help with the heavier furniture on the day her grandmother moved. In the meantime, she and her grandmother had to go through all the closets and decide what to do with decades of her grandmother’s life.
“Why don’t we start up in the bedroom closets and box up the giveaway items and anything you want to take with you that you absolutely don’t need right now?” Emily suggested.
“Sounds good,” Bev agreed. “All the boxes are upstairs in the guest room.”
The two women trudged upstairs where the master bedroom, two small guest rooms, and the one bathroom were. Armed with tape, markers, and scissors, they went into one of the guest bedrooms and began in the closet.
They began sorting items and boxing up the keepers and the giveaways. Even though her grandfather had been gone a long time, Emily’s grandmother still had some of his old clothes in the guest closet. They boxed those items up for Goodwill, keeping only his army uniform and the suit he’d worn for their wedding. In the dresser, there were long-forgotten sheet sets, doilies, and other linens that they separated out and boxed. Her grandmother told Emily to take any items she might want—like some of the doilies that had been crocheted by her great-grandmother Prentice—and also gave her the military medals belonging to her grandfather that they’d found in a drawer to give to her brother.
“Maybe Edward would like to have these,” Bev said.
Emily nodded. “I’m sure he’d love to.”
After two hours in the first guest bedroom, they moved on to the second one. This room was one that Emily knew well. It was the bedroom she’d slept in when she’d stayed overnight as a child, and it was the room that held all the fun toys her grandmother kept for when children visited. The closet in this room was much like the other one, but deeper, and with shelves from floor to ceiling. Games, dolls, Legos, puzzles, and a variety of other toys sat on the shelves, and a few dress-up clothes were stored in an old chest. An antique cake tin held costume jewelry that Emily used to wear when she played dress-up, and she smiled when she pulled it from the closet.
