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Her grandfather.
Zoey had never even thought about Denise's father ashergrandfather. But that was who he would have been. "Yes. I just need a direction to go in. We suspect she used an alias. Denise Daviess most likely wasn't her birth name. And with her father being buried in Coleson Cemetery, there is a chance her family probably attended at one point."
"I have a few church records. But not very many, I'm afraid. We had a vandal about sixteen years ago. Broke in to the office. Burned everything we had in the old filing cabinet. Including church records up to that point. I’d only been the pastor for a year or so at the time. Our congregation merged with the one in Garrity two years after that. But…I grew up around here. We were a part of the church off and on. We followed my father’s work, in and out of Dallas and Houston and here."
Zoey bit back a curse, considering where she was sitting at the moment. Just like the library. Every record she could have possibly found to guide her search somehow was always destroyed. "I'm mostly looking for information about the families who attended the church between forty and sixty-five years ago. Would you know of anywhere I can find that information?"
He shook his head. "I can give you a list of families I remember. I attended as a child as well, but unless they have photos, maybe. I'm afraid I don't know how I can help."
"Who were the main families?"
"Well, the Coleson family, of course. They were the biggest in the area, no surprise. Until about thirty, thirty-five years ago, when Dr. Andrew Coleson lost what remained of his fortune. He'd invested in some medical research that didn't pay out as he had hoped, my mother had told me about thirty years ago. The reversal of fortune, plus hospitals run on a very slim profit margin, especially rural—and with the costs associated to running his nursing facility—I'm afraid things just went downhill for him. The hospital eventually closed. He kept the nursing facility going for another handful of years, before that closed as well. He was with his second wife, then. A beautiful woman, very kind. Kim was about three or four years older than I was. They kept the houses, and part of the ranch after the hospital folded. But everyone knew it was a struggle. They died about seven or eight years later, in an automobile accident. The place was auctioned off in parcels after that. But other than the man I occasionally see near what was once the rehabilitative facility, I don't even think any of the buildings are occupied. And he's only in town once or twice a week at the most. It was the old carriage house. My father helped remodel it into the rehab place when I was probably no more than five or so. I think. My memories are a bit hazy on the timelines."
"Did Andrew Coleson have a daughter named Denise?"
He shook his head. "Not that I remember, though he did have quite a few daughters. There was one—a beautiful woman, with dark hair and eyes much like yours—but she was a few years younger than I was. Angela, I believe. As far as I knew, she was the eldest. A more beautiful girl I have never seen, something so…enchanting about her. Then there was a younger girl, four or five years behind Angela. Very quiet, very sweet. A delicately pretty girl. Like a little porcelain doll on one of those windup music boxes, that one. Dr. Coleson and Kim had four or five together as well. But they were quite a bit younger than my brothers and me. There was a great deal of gossip when that youngest girl came along. People said Kim had had a lover—had had to, since there was such an age difference between her and Dr. Coleson. She was his head nurse until the place closed. They married suddenly. She was maybe twenty-five at the time? He was close to forty, even over, maybe. That youngest girl—a good decade younger than my boys, I believe. So, she has to be around twenty-four or twenty-five now."
"Did Mrs. Coleson have a lover?"
He laughed, revealing a beautiful smile in a dark face. He’d always had one of the best laughs of any man Zoey had known. She’d always liked him. Felt comfortable with him. "No. At least, not by looking at that baby. One thing holds true—Colesons looked like Colesons. Tall, dark hair, dark eyes. Pale skin, for the most part." His eyes narrowed. He studied her face for a long time. Appraisingly. "You might even say...they looked quite a bit like the woman who you see in the mirror. Is it possible you might be a Coleson?"
"At this point, anything is possible. But if his eldest daughter was two years younger than you, she'd be—"
"Probably closer to three or four, actually. Fifty-three or -four now."
The math didn’t add up, then. Another lead that went nowhere. "My eldest brother just turned forty."
He shook his head. "Probably not her, then. Angela didn’t have a baby that young. Of that, I am absolutely certain. I remember her at the school. We’d been out of town for a few years and came back. It was my senior year. She would have been eighth grade? The lower part of the building. But there were rumors, stories. Andrew Coleson had a brother who lived to the age of twenty-one before he had a heart attack. A rare condition that came from a genetic mutation, I read once. The genetic mutation was first seen in this area. Same condition the Colesons were credited with discovering. Andrew's grandfather first started the research. My mother was a nurse. She was fascinated by the Coleson family. We moved here when I was eight so she could work at that hospital. She’d always work there when we would move back. My daddy was a construction man. We went where his jobs took us. My brother Luke took after him, took over his business actually. Made a nice name for himself in Dallas. His eldest is running it for him now. Andrew's father Andreas furthered the research into that mutation. A family quest, you’d call it. Then Andrew. There were rumors that Coleson's brother might have had a child before he died. And there was always something about a pair of twins, something to do with a murder at the place. But we weren’t in Garrity then, I don’t think. I can ask my brother when I next see him."
"I haven't done much research into the Colesons, actually. Right now we're just having trouble finding authentic records for my siblings. And me. But we're still looking." But she would. That name just kept coming into the conversation too often for her to overlook it. She mentally added that to the next item on the list.
She’d have Sydney or Grace start gathering what they could find, too. Sometimes when things just shouted out—a smart woman answered.
"I can call my brother Jon as well. He's a professor at FCU. History. He is five years older than I am. He might remember more."
"Thanks, Pastor Wil. I appreciate the help. And anything that points us in the direction we need to go...well, at this point, that's all I'm looking for."
He leveled a look at her. "You'll find what you're looking for, eventually. When the time is meant for you to find it."
Easy enough to hear—but not so easy enough todo.
He stood, stretching to his full height. He was equally as tall as her brothers, who all hovered around the six-five, six-six mark. But he was lean and rangy, even at fifty-five. She could see what Phyllis Burns saw, most definitely. She hoped it worked out for them both. He deserved it.
He was someone she was most definitely going to miss.
Zoey surprised herself when she hugged him quickly. And thanked him.
And said goodbye.
“You…have an open invitation to come visit me anytime, Zoey. Don’t forget that. You arealwayswelcome here. You and that kid sister of yours, too. Blue hair and all.”
41
It was time.To move on from his greatest love…to the next generation.
Gregory sat at his desk and planned long after the children were asleep. He would have to make sure everything was perfect.
He would have to keep the surrogate alive and healthy for years.
