The Wedding Dress(51)
“Thinking of you, Miller. Remember how we took the baseball championship our senior year at NC State just before we took off for the marines?”
Dixie returned and propped on the desk next to Charlotte’s screen and leaned to see. Her ponytail swung down over her shoulder.
“Find anything?”
“He was killed.” Charlotte looked up at Dix. “And he was married.”
Dixie straightened, her eyes shining. “She put the dress in the trunk and sealed it shut.”
“That’s what I’m thinking. Listen to his bio, Dix. Joel was military honor society at the University of North Carolina, the Semper Fidelis Society, and the Scabbard and Blade. A recruited baseball player.”
“Is there a picture?”
“No, no picture.” But Charlotte started missing a man she’d never met, envisioning a clean-cut, rawboned, steely eyed marine.
Scrolling through the pages of messages, eyes filled with tears, she searched for a hint of the woman who might have loved him. The one who tucked his dog tags into a silk sachet before sealing them away forever.
There were only three postings on the last page and one caught her eye. It was posted three weeks ago, April 14, the anniversary of the day Joel Miller died.
“It’s been over forty years, but I still think of you. You’re not forgotten. I miss you, Joel C. I’m not sure my heart has ever healed. With love, Your Wife.”
“Oh my gosh. She posted a note.” Dixie stepped back with a sigh. “Wow, can you imagine?” She dropped a tissue over Charlotte’s shoulder. “War stinks.”
“Death in general stinks.” Charlotte blotted the tears from under her eyes and stared at the screen, a cold, weighty realization sinking through her. “Dix, April 14 is the day I went up to the ridge to think and wound up at the Ludlow auction.”
“The day you bought the trunk.”
Charlotte shoved out of her chair, her thoughts rattling into place. “So, this grieving widow of forty-some years posts on Joel’s wall the same day I buy the trunk with a wedding dress, her wedding dress maybe, and his dog tags shut up inside it.”
“I just got chills.” Dixie shivered, rubbing her hands over her arms.
“Did she leave an e-mail address?” Back at the computer, Charlotte scanned the woman’s post. Yes, she’d left an e-mail address.
Charlotte clicked on the link and typed in the subject line: Did you weld shut a trunk forty years ago with Joel’s dog tags inside?
“Charlotte, stop, you can’t do that.” Dixie pulled Charlotte’s hand off the keyboard. “She might not want to hear from you. Or bring up memories of Joel. She put those tags in the trunk and torched it shut for a reason.”
“Then why did she just post on his wall? She’s obviously not afraid to think of him or read about him.” Charlotte scrolled up to the last post before “Your Wife” posted. “It’s been over a year since anyone else visited here. She posted three weeks ago.” Charlotte went back to her e-mail. “I think she wants to touch him in some way. She’s missing him. The dress was probably her mother’s or grandmother’s, and she wore it for their wedding.”
“Yes, then he died and she stored all their memories in the trunk. Charlotte, just because she posted doesn’t mean she wants you to unearth her past. What looks like a painful one too.”
Charlotte sighed and sat back, gazing up at Dixie. “I hate when you make sense.” She combed her finger through her hair and stared at the screen. “I have to send it, Dix.”
“I know you do.”
Charlotte pressed Send. Now all she had to do was wait. And pray she didn’t open a sealed tomb that awakened the memories of a broken heart.
Chapter Thirteen
The aroma of garlic and basil lingered in the loft long after Charlotte and Dix sat at the table with empty bowls of spaghetti and salad. Dixie had left for a movie with Jared’s sister.
“Sure you don’t want to come?”
“No thanks. The last time I went with you and Sally somewhere, your razor-sharp bantering sliced me to shreds.”
Charlotte cleaned the kitchen, then made a cup of tea and wandered to her living room. She’d brought the dress form out of the bedroom and put it by the sofa. Sitting next to it, she aimed the remote and turned on the TV.
“This is a TV, dress. Have you ever seen TV before? Bunch of junk on nowadays.”
Charlotte surfed a few channels, blowing past movies that starred geeky men winning the affections of gorgeous women who sported unrealistically perfect bosoms.
Every so often, her gaze jerked toward the dress. She could swear the thing was moving. Even glowing. Shutting off the TV, Charlotte faced the gown, sitting cross-legged on the couch.
“What? Tell me the story in your threads.”
Her email to Joel Miller’s wife was returned by MAILER-DAEMON. Which Charlotte found odd, because the address was just posted three weeks ago.
Did “Your Wife” delete her account so soon after posting? Charlotte sipped her tea, compiling options, figuring ways to find out just who loved and missed Lt. Joel Miller.
As if trying to get a visual of the puzzle, Charlotte had draped the dog tags around the neck of the dress form. They rested in the swag of silk draped across the neckline.