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“Why not sign the letters?” Nic continued. “Give them a chance to respond?”
Vonda’s expression was mortified. “All I can say is, being in Missoula, where Michael went to school, where he played ball, where he lived for four years, it made me a little crazy. I wasn’t thinking straight.”
Sarah could understand that. Grief made you do the inexplicable, sometimes.
“The letters had nothing to do with my mother,” Janine said. “Thank God.”
“My parents never believed they’d been given the whole story,” Vonda said. “The coach and some of Michael’s teammates came to San Diego for the funeral, and you all sent cards and flowers, but we always thought we were missing pieces of the puzzle.”
Piece by piece, they filled in the picture for her. How Lucas had baited Janine and finally attacked her in one of the cabins. How she’d run from him, how Michael had tried to help her and stop Lucas. How Lucas swore he wasn’t going to go to prison for a slut—Sarah couldn’t bring herself to repeat what he’d really said—from the wrong side of the tracks and jumped in Jeremy’s car just as Sarah and Jeremy returned from their ride. How the two boys raced after Lucas, trying to keep him from what seemed like suicide, only to become the victims themselves.
Vonda covered her mouth with her hand. “The sheriff didn’t tell us any of that. Was he charged with what he did to you?”
“No,” Janine said. “He’d already been accepted to law school and the sheriff implied that I’d be ruining his future. That it would be he-said, she-said and did I want to put myself through that? I decided no, I didn’t. Sarah will tell you that’s her fault, that she discouraged me from pursuing it, and I used to think that. But the truth is, I made the decision. She acted out of love. I acted out of fear.”
“When the crash was ruled an accident and no charges were filed, my parents were devastated. I remember Dad saying ‘It’s 1996 and there’s no justice for a young Black man in a white state.’”
“I can’t say that race wasn’t a factor,” Nic said, “but Michael was a star. People all around the state loved him. I’d like to think the highway patrol investigators honestly did see it as a tragic accident. They didn’t know about the assault, either.”
“And the assault?” Vonda asked. “‘Boys will be boys’? I’m the mother of two sons. Boys don’t attack girls.”
Janine kissed the top of her head. “This girl’s got dinner almost ready. You’re staying.”
Being tired of secrets, Sarah told herself, didn’t mean she had to blurt out everything all at once. There was no need to tell Vonda about her nightmares. And she wasn’t ready to tell her sister and her friends, old and new, about the deal Connor, Jeremy, and Lucas had worked out. Later, after she’d worked out what it all meant for her.
* * *
“So here’s what we found,” Holly said, leading Sarah to the table where she’d been sorting the letters. “It’s the link between Anja and the Ladies’ Aid Society.”
“Darn it, I never did get reading glasses,” Sarah said.
Vonda dug a pair out of her handbag and held them out. Leopard print. Figured.
“December 1, 1923,” Sarah read.
My dear Caroline,
Forgive me the long delay in thanking you for your kindness during those dark, difficult times last year. You could not have been a better friend to me and my family. I trust Con received Frank’s check for our dear Anja’s burial plot and gravestone.
“So the Laceys paid for it,” she said, glancing up.
You are the perfect custodian of my beloved Whitetail Lodge. I know that you will love it as much as I did, and make it the best home in the world for your family.
We are finally settled here in St. Paul, in a large home on Summit Avenue near my brother. The children love to regale their friends and cousins with tales of life in the wilderness. I am sure their parents think we lived among the savages.
Sarah made a face, then continued.
I have one more great favor to ask. Had I paid more attention to the well-being of our household staff and not dismissed my premonitions, Anja would still be with us. Her final days would not have been plagued by unwanted attentions, and worse. I know there are many women in difficult situations who cannot afford to leave them, even to save their lives. I am enclosing a check for one hundred dollars and ask that you use the funds at your discretion to benefit those in need. Women who are unable to seek help or whom others are unwilling to help.
“Oh my God. This makes so much sense. When was the first loan made? Caro mentioned it in her journal.”
“The loan to Hulda Amundsen,” Holly said. “In February 1924. I think that hundred would be around a thousand today.”
“Guilt money,” Janine said.
/> “Maybe at first,” Sarah said, “but it’s obvious they loaned out far more than Ellen sent. And they did it for years.”
They were solving all the mysteries. Except the one that had brought them all together.
