AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She paused when she got to her own. She had been four years old. It said simply: “There was a baby. She was crying. Distress likely caused by a combination of hunger and the cold.”
Dahlia felt an unexpected swell of emotion in her chest, and the memory felt so fresh. The sadness she’d felt then, the confusion. She’d been so young she’d always felt like she was missing pieces of what had happened, especially because her own feelings about it had been so different from the whole town’s.
Except Dana’s, apparently.
“Wow. I... I’ve never seen this,” Dahlia said.
She handed it to Ruby, who looked at it while squinting, as if she didn’t want to see it too clearly. Ruby didn’t frown. Instead she looked... Calm. Her expression glassy and smooth.
“I know this story,” Ruby said. “It’s just strange to read what you all said to the police.”
And for the first time Dahlia really considered that Ruby’s myth sold her sister short a bit. As if her survival had been so unquestionably meant to be, that she’d never truly been in peril. That she’d been magical, and therefore not... A fighter.
“You’re a story, Ruby. You always have been. Just making you into a miracle is kind of selling you short. You’re not a tragedy, because you survived.”
The corner of Ruby’s mouth twitched. “That makes me sound kind of tough.”
“I’ve been looking for stories,” Dahlia said slowly. “Stories about the town. It’s something I’ve been thinking about, mulling over. The people who live here love it here. They really do. And there are a lot of new people. People who don’t know what made this place. But this is... This is what I need to do. A series of articles rediscovering the town. The history, the arrival of pears into the economy, the building of these different businesses. The disappearance of Caitlin Groves. And you. I’d like to do a real profile on you. Gather new interviews and perspectives. I want to reinvigorate interest in the paper, and I think this could do it.”
“I...look, Dahlia, if you want to do history, I’m here for that. I can even make museum displays to coincide with the story. A history of businesses in town? There used to be a feature... They don’t do it anymore. It was in the paper. It was called No Longer on the Map. And it went over what used to be on Main Street, what isn’t there anymore. You could write about them and I could make mock storefronts and everything.”
Ruby was brightening and trying to move away from the serious stuff already. “Okay, that does sound great.” Dahlia gripped the edge of the police report. “But this...this is the substance of the town. I want to write about this. I want to write about you.”
“What is there to write about?” Ruby asked. “It’s been written.”
“We were never interviewed. We were kids. Me, Lydia and Marianne, I mean. And you haven’t been.”
“Dahlia...”
Dahlia stared back down at the police report and remembered. “I was four. And for some reason I remember very clearly that I’d just cut my hair to chin length, and it felt really grown-up. I’m having a hard time describing the feeling. I see things but I don’t... I’m not sure if I’m remembering or if I’m making things up, you know?” She squinted as if that would help her cast her mind back. “I’ve heard everyone else talk about it so much.”
Except... She hadn’t really. They talked about the event, but not the moment they’dfoundRuby. And those two things seemed very different.
It was like still pictures. There wasn’t sound. But she had a vision of the bridge. It was dark out, and Lydia was holding a flashlight. She wasprettysure Lydia was. And her sisters were both tall, which was funny because she was taller than both of them now.
She was walking in front of them trying to stay in the beam of light. And she could remember seeing it. A little bundle. Like a baby doll. And in her mind there was one clear image, of the light falling across that red, wrinkled face.
The first time she’d seen Ruby.
“I just remember it was really cold,” she said to Ruby. “And we were... We were rehearsing for the Christmas play. And I was in the choir. So we were dressed as angels. I think I had a white sheet on. And I don’t have a clue why I remember that. But I remember trying to squeeze the baggy white sleeves into my coat before we left. And I felt like I couldn’t move my arms right. But Mom wasn’t there. It was Lydia and Marianne bundling me up. So they didn’t do a good job. Then we walked outside and it was cold. I could see my breath. And I remember the bridge. The boards were squeaky. And I thought it was scary. Because it was like walking into a mouth. And I didn’t like it. I guess it’s not really a memory from that night. It’s just how I felt about the bridge. And you were there. In a little blanket.”
Ruby was staring at her now, not so immune now. Wanting the story now.
“Who picked me up?” Ruby asked.
Dahlia frowned. “I don’t remember. I remember that when you did get picked up, something fell out of the blanket. It was your necklace. The silver bells.”
Ruby nodded.
“I picked them up,” Dahlia said.
And right then she could feel it between her fingertips. Cold from the air outside. So cold. It was a miracle that Ruby had survived. Dahlia had been out there with a coat, and she could remember. She could remember how cold it was, and Ruby had been just a tiny thing, wrapped in a blanket.
“I put them in my coat pocket,” Dahlia said. “And... I remember being home. And I remember police.” She shook her head. “That’s really all. I was just...in preschool. I can remember making a turkey with my hand, but I can’t totally remember all that. You’re my sister. That’s what it was. From that day forward. I mean... There were discussions. I remember being upset, because Mom said she didn’t know if we could keep you. Because someone might be looking for you. I remember praying that whoever it was didn’t find you, because they didn’t deserve you. They left you. I didn’t want you to go away. I felt like we found you and you were ours. So we should get to keep you.”
Ruby was uncharacteristically silent, and she noticed that there were tears in her eyes. “I didn’t know that.”
“I guess I never told you.”
