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“Same here, with my mom,” Makayla whispered in a barely audible tone.
“Well, Sis,” Donja said, “it appears you were right. You’re my shield and I’m your Prozac.”
Makayla hugged her and then pulled back. “Not to get all philosophical, but do you think everything in life happens for a reason?”
Donja scrunched her brows. “Meaning?”
“The deaths of our parents, my dad marrying your mom, two mentally unbalanced strangers who obviously need each other desperately, becoming sisters? What are the chances of that happening?”
Donja huffed. “Pretty slim I would imagine.”
“Fate?” Makayla queried.
“Sure, we can blame it on that,” Donja smiled grabbing the mop from the broom closet.
“What’s that for?”
“Are you serious?” Donja blurted, with a hand to her hip. “You’ve never seen a mop?”
“Well of course I’ve seen one,” she said, “just not being used.”
“Well, this is your lucky day, Princess,” Donja said offering it up. “Time to learn.”
With the floors spick and span they hung the mop outside the backdoor to dry. Donja headed for the stairs.
“Where are you going?” Makayla asked.
“I need my phone.”
“Hmm, well, we have a few hours to kill before we get ready to go out,” Makayla said following behind. “Why don’t we take some pictures and post them online. I just love a good mystery and those pictures have spiked my curiosity.”
Donja laughed. “You got it, Sherlock!”
Observers
Donja and Makayla spent the entire afternoon on the computer. Armed with a liter of Diet Coke and half a bag of Hershey’s Kisses, they managed to get seventeen of the mysterious brides from the wedding album posted.
“You think we’ll get any responses?” Donja asked.
“It’s hard to say,” Makayla answered. “These pictures are old, and it’s a given that these women have long since been dead.”
“True,” Donja replied.
“Any more coke?” Makayla asked.
Donja held up the empty bottle. “Nope, we drank it all.”
Makayla emptied her glass, munching on crushed ice. “I think our best bet is that someone in the area who either knew the family, or was a relative will take notice,” she slurped. “I feel like a detective.”
Donja tucked her hair behind her ears. “Okay Miss Detective. Don’t you find it a bit weird that out of hundreds of brides, that not a single picture had a groom?”
“Yeah, it is strange, but even stranger, how did they all get combined into one album and stored in a hidden attic.”
“Now you’re thinking, Donja said, toying with her hair. “It’s almost like someone was trying to hide the fact that they ever existed. Those brides were young, all of them but did you notice those last two we put online. They couldn’t have been more than nine or ten years old.”
“I noticed,” Makayla sighed. “Do you think it was some sort of cult or one of the founding Mormons. I read an essay once that said some of them had up to forty wives and I did find some baby clothing in one of the boxes.”
“I don’t think Mormons married outside their religion, but it could have been a cult. I didn’t even see the baby stuff.”
