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Another slow nod.
“But I suppose a lot of people did.” Including James Longbaugh’s ancestors.
“Indeed.”
****
“...so Mrs. P doesn’t know,” I told Tom that evening. “Not if Etta Place survived, not if her friend and mentor was really Etta Place. How’s that for a twist? There’s something Mrs. P doesn’t know.”
“But you think she did survive, even if she didn’t end up in Cottonwood County.”
He took my silence as an answer. Smart man.
“Any evidence?” he asked.
“Great. Mr. Believe-in-Everybody wants evidence? For starters, there’s no confirmation they’re buried in Bolivia. Friends and family of Butch said he visited in the 1920s or 30s. And I find it interesting that Etta disappeared from the record.”
“Could’ve died.”
“Or not,” I shot back. “There’s also the fact that Esther Ramalarga wrote her dissertation on Oscar and Pearl Virtanen, with information and detail that can’t be confirmed by records still in existence now.”
“Things do get lost over time.”
“And that she said so clearly that there was no evidence of what happened to Pearl. Along with no mention of a baby. Feels like complete misdirection.”
“You do know, even if you’re right about Etta living out her days in Cottonwood County, even if Pearl and her baby rode off into the sunset, even if those friends and family were right about Butch visiting them back then or Sundance became a rancher, they all were long dead before we were born.”
“That’s not the point. They would have had long, full lives — that’s the point. You know how you feel when you walk through an old cemetery, see the stone for someone who died in their seventies or eighties compared to how you feel if you see one for a child?”
“Can’t remember last time I walked through a cemetery, old or otherwise. But I’m looking forward to you walking down the aisle to me.”
I grimaced at him.
He kissed me.
Unexpectedly, he said, “I know you’re not enthusiastic about the wedding. You going along has me looking forward even more to marrying you, Elizabeth Margaret Danniher.”
“Considering your first wife was ready to have you convicted of murder, that’s not a high bar for me.”
He chuckled. “Beyond that...” His eyes went a bit unfocused a moment, then he came back to me. “First time I’m marrying for love.”
This time, I kissed him.
“When’s dinner?” Tamantha called from her room.
****
With Tom’s arm around me, I leaned into him as we sat on the sofa, watching the dogs sleeping side by side in front of the fireplace again, even though there was no fire in it this time.
It was cold enough.
There just hadn’t been time with getting dinner, listening to Tamantha’s rehearsal for the talk she was giving in class the next day, then getting her to bed.
We’d be following before long, but this was a nice breather.
Except it recalled an unresolved situation.
“Maybe she could adjust.” I used the pronoun to not disturb the canine sleepers, certain Tom’s thoughts were on the same track.
