Honoring Others

Part IV

Before starting her shift the next morning at Ingram’s Antiques, Trixie pulled out her phone and quickly punched in Sam Walker’s phone number, crossing her fingers in hopes he would answer.

After several rings, Sam’s voice shouted into the phone, “Hello?”

“Hi, Mr. Walker.  This is Trixie Belden.”

“Who?”

“Trixie Belden.” Trixie couldn’t help but roll her eyes.  “I’m the one who stopped by your house and got that box of your wife’s journals.”

“My wife’s journals?  Well, you can’t bring them back here.  They’re yours now.”

“Oh, no, Mr. Walker, I don’t want to bring them back.  I’m actually wondering if you have any more boxes of journals sitting around your house.”

“More journals?”

“Yes,” answered Trixie. “See, I was able to get some information but not all that I wanted.”

"Wait just a minute.”  

Trixie heard some muttering and shuffling on Sam’s end before he returned to the conversation.

“I have about five boxes that are piled in the front bedroom.  Do you want them?” he asked.

Trixie’s closed fist shot up over her head. “Yes.  That would be great. Do you think it’d be possible for me to pick them up later today?”

“Yes.  But I don’t think I can get them to your car for you.”

“That’s not a problem, Mr. Walker.  My boyfriend will do that.”

“Okay.  I eat dinner at six.  Can you get them before that?”

Trixie did a rapid calculation of her day.  Since she had to work until seven,  she decided a late lunch would be the perfect time to pick up the journals.  After communicating her plan to the older man, Trixie ended the call, then dialed Tad.

“I just talked to Sam Walker,” Trixie announced excitedly when Tad answered his phone.  “Can you get away around four?  We can run over and grab the journals.  He wants us to get them before six o’clock.”

“Sure.  How many are there?”

“He said there were five more boxes.”

“Five more boxes,” groaned Tad.  “They’re going to weigh a ton.”

“Well, if you can’t handle it…” challenged Trixie slyly.

“Who said that?” demanded Tad.  “Of course I can carry those boxes.  I’ll swing by and pick you up at four.”

“Perfect.” Trixie smiled into her phone.  “See you then.”

Pleased with the outcome of both of her phone calls, Trixie buzzed around the antique shop, greeting the customers with a big smile and jumping to assist them whenever they needed it. Without realizing it, her day flew by.

At a little past four, Tad pulled into the alley behind Ingram’s Antiques.  Trixie, ready and waiting at the back door, bounded out and jumped into his car.

“Let’s go,” she demanded breathlessly as she quickly fastened her seatbelt.

Tad turned his car around and, by following Trixie’s directions, arrived at Sam Walker’s house a few minutes later.  After parking along the curb, the two got out and approached the house with Trixie practically skipping along the curved walkway.  After pushing the old faded doorbell, they waited.

“What’s taking so long?” griped Tad. “I thought you said you made arrangements with him.”

“Shush!” Trixie reached out and gently covered Tad’s mouth with her hand.  “He’s an old man.  He’ll get there….eventually.”

A few seconds later they heard shuffling inside the house then Sam Walker opened the door.

“Hi, Mr. Walker,” said Trixie.  “Do you remember me?”

Nodding, Sam Walker stepped back and opened the door wider.  “Indeed I do.”

“And this is Tad Webster.”  

Tad and Sam shook hands then the elderly man stepped back and opened the door wider. “Come this way.” With swollen, arthritic fingers he motioned them to follow him.

Tad and Trixie followed Sam down a worn carpeted hall and into a bedroom.  The room’s shades were partially drawn, but even in the dim light, Tad and Trixie could see that the room was full of boxes, piles of clothing, and several stacks of framed photographs. A collection of limp household plants sat on an old sewing machine in front of a partially curtained window.

“Right there.” Sam pointed to five battered cartons that were in one corner.

“And I can have them?” asked Trixie.

“Be my guest,” replied the elderly man.

With a subtle head nod from Trixie, Tad hoisted a box onto his shoulders, disappeared, then returned a few minutes later and repeated the process.

“Well, this room looks better already!” declared Sam as he surveyed the empty corner. “My cleaning lady will be so impressed.” He smiled at Trixie.  

“That’s true, it does,” replied Trixie, noting the dozen or so cobwebs that were now visible as well as the dusty, faded shag carpeting.  “I really appreciate you giving us these journals.”

Sam waved his hands through the air, then turned and trudged back down the hallway toward the front door.  “I’m just happy to have them out of this house,” he said over his shoulder.  “While you’re at it, take anything else that strikes your fancy.”

“Um, I think these journals are more than enough,” answered Trixie as she noted the piles of old magazines, books, and other household items.

At the front door, Trixie paused and again thanked the man.  Then she and Tad stepped out of the cluttered, cramped house and into the late day sunshine.

“Whew!” Tad took a deep breath then started down the sidewalk.  “Can you imagine having all that stuff?”

“No.  And just think how horrible it would be to have to dust and clean  around all that junk?”

“Said the woman who got her boyfriend to dust her apartment every week.” Grinning,  Tad elbowed Trixie in her side.

“That’s right.  One of the smartest things I’ve ever done!” Across the top of the car, Trixie returned Tad’s grin then the two climbed in.

Trixie slammed shut the door,  then paused. A thoughtful look crossed her face and her usual effervescent demeanor sagged.

“What?” Glancing at Trixie, Tad turned the key in the ignition.

“It’s just kinda...sad,” said Trixie slowly.

“What’s sad?”  Keeping the car idling, Tad twisted in his seat.

“Well, that old man’s life is packed into a thousand boxes that will just end up getting thrown away.  He may complain about all the junk his wife kept but I bet at some time that stuff was important to both of them. It’s hard to believe that a person’s entire life can be disposed of so easily.”

Tad scrubbed his lower face with his hand.  “Yea.  I remember when Spider and I had to move out of our house and all our parents’ things were divided up into different piles and cartons.  You know, some stuff went to Goodwill, some went to the church, some went to an auction house.”

Trixie reached out and covered Tad’s hand with hers.  “That had to be rough.”

“It was. And when the stuff was gone, it was as if my parents had never even been there.”

Against the gentle humming of the car’s engine, the two sat silent, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Tad put the car into gear and pulled away from Sam Walker’s house.

**********

Back at work, Trixie positioned herself at the front counter and efficiently  checked out the customers who were in a hurry to get home while the part-time help took care of keeping the merchandise and aisles tidy.  At the end of her shift, Trixie dashed through the closing procedures, anxious to get out of work, drive to Tad’s place and start digging through the new boxes of journals that were now in their possession.

“Five boxes full of handwritten journals,” lamented Trixie.  “If we have to go through all of them, that will take forever.  Hopefully, Tad and I will be able to whittle down the pile to a few select books that work within the timeline we developed.”  Trixie flipped over the Closed sign, set the security alarm, then trotted over to the adjoining restaurant to pick up a “to go” dinner she had ordered earlier.

“Here’s your food, Trixie.”  Ian, the talented chef of The Hideaway, handed Trixie a plastic bag that held several containers. “I hope you and Tad like it.  And I threw in a few leftover brownies for dessert.”

“Yum! Yum! You’re the best.”  Trixie sniffed at the containers appreciatively.  

“You guys got big plans tonight?” Ian turned off the lights in the dining area of the restaurant that was already set up for the next day’s business.

“We’re working our way through a bunch of old journals in hopes of finding any information regarding that identity of the tot who looks so much like me.” Trixie replied as she trailed Ian through the darkened restaurant.

“Oh, yeah. Imogene told me all about it.  Looks like you’ve got quite a mystery on your hands, Trixie.”

“I know.  And solving it is taking forever, or at least it seems like it.”

“I hope you and Tad find something out soon.”  Ian nudged Trixie out the back door, then set his own alarm for both restaurant. “You’ve got my curiosity piqued.”

“I’ll keep you posted,” answered Trixie, who, after unlocking her small car,  carefully stashed the bag of food in her backseat.

“See you tomorrow.”  Ian got into his car then waited as Trixie got into hers.  He followed her out onto Main Street where they both took off in opposite directions.

As Trixie pulled into the parking lot of Tad’s apartment, she heard her stomach give a loud rumble. “Hang on a few more minutes,” she said as she gave it several soothing pats. “Trust me, you’ll be rewarded.” Grabbing the fragrant bag of food, she hurried up the stairs and quickly rapped on Tad’s door.

“Dinner’s here!” exclaimed Trixie when Tad answered the door.

“I’ve already got the table set.”

Tad took the food from Trixie and went into the kitchen where he quickly dished out a meal of thick reuben sandwiches, pickles and chips while Trixie prepared their drinks. They sat down at the corner table and dug into the delicious fare.  In between bites, they discussed their theories on Johnny and Amy and their irritation that Amy’s mother had so strongly disapproved of the relationship. When they were done, they headed to the living room where Tad had piled the five boxes against under the window.  They both opened a box and began checking the dates of the journal entries, casting aside any that didn’t fit the time period for which they were searching.  

“Ta-da!” sang out Trixie as she held out a faded journal in one hand.  “This one is dated April, 1942.”

“Good.  Maybe they’ll be more from that time period in the same box.”  Tad moved over and started digging through Trixie’s box while Trixie settled herself back on the couch and began to read.

“Whoa!” Tad stopped digging and sat back on his heels.  “Look at this.” He held up a journal that, unlike the others, was tied with a red ribbon.  “What do you think this means?”

“I don’t know.” Trixie looked over the top of the journal she was reading.  “But I bet it means something. Let me see it.” She held out her hand.

Tad passed the journal to Trixie.  She stared at the dusty, faded bow, flattened from its years spent lying in the bottom of a box.  “Here goes.” She gently pulled one end of the ribbon and watched as it slowly unwound.  Then she opened the front cover and checked the date.

“This one fits into our timeline,” she said.  “But here’s the weird part.  Amy writes that this journal shall remain hidden forever and will only speak of the truth between her and Johnny.  What do you think that means?” Puzzled, Trixie looked up at Tad.

Tad shrugged. “I think the only way to find out is to read it.”

Trixie hesitated.  "I know, but now I really feel like I’m intruding on Amy’s privacy.”

“It’s up to you,” said Tad.

“Okay. Here, you read the one I had started and I’ll work through this one.”  Trixie scooted over and made room for Tad on the couch next to her . Leaving the rest of the journals in the box, Tad took his spot and the two delved into their reading.

“Bingo!” said Tad suddenly.  “I found it.”

“What?” asked Trixie, looking up quickly.

“The meeting between Johnny and Amy.”

“Go on.”  Trixie, her eyes sparkling, leaned forward in anticipation.

 

Wanda and I went downtown today to get cherry cokes at Woolworth’s.  Nothing tastes better on a warm spring day.  Anyway, we saw these older guys, college aged.  They were very nice. Despite knowing what our mothers would say, Wanda and I let them join us.  They even paid!  I really liked the one guy named Zeeck Johnson.  He told me I could call him Johnny because he really doesn’t like his first name.  He said the name Zeeck reminds him of the farm hand in The Wizard of Oz.  He is so cute.  He has blond hair which I’m sure would be curly if he didn’t have a crew cut.  His eyes!  They are the bluest I’ve ever seen.  And he is so smart.  He’s going to join the army so he can earn money to continue his college studies.  He says he wants to work for the FBI.  That sounds so exciting.   While Wanda talked with the other guy, Johnny and I got to know each other.  He said he grew up in Croton-on-Hudson but hopes to end up living in a big city, like Washington D.C.  Oh, Diary, Johnny is absolutely the most fascinating man I’ve ever met.  He makes the boys at high school look downright silly.  We exchanged addresses so we could write each other.  I’m going to write him tomorrow.  

 

“He’s a Johnson,” whispered Trixie, her eyes wide.  “Then there’s a good possibility he’s related to me.”

“Yeah, he looks like you and he even sounds like you. Imagine not liking your first name!” Tad gently tapped Trixie’s forehead.

Scowling at Tad, Trixie sat up and tucked her legs underneath her.  “So now I know his name and where he’s from.  I have my first concrete clue to go on.”

Tad looked at Trixie in surprise.  “Go on? I thought you just wanted to know if this Johnny person was a relative.”

“I’m not certain if he was a relative or not, although I’m pretty sure he was.   And if he is a relative, why haven’t I ever heard of him? And we still don’t know what happened to him.”

“So now your mystery has a sequel?” Tad ran his hand through his dark hair.

Trixie bobbed her head.  “Yes.  How could I walk away not knowing whatever became of him, especially if he turns out to be a long-lost cousin or something?”

“Questions and more questions. So?” He peeked over Trixie’s shoulder. “How’s your journal?”

Trixie blushed slightly and pressed the old journal against her chest.,  “It’s uh...rather intimate.”

Tad’s eyebrows raised slightly.  “Intimate? How?”

Trixie repositioned herself on the couch. “Apparently, when it came time for Johnny to leave, Amy decided to give herself to him.”

“Oh?”

“I won’t bore you with the details.”

“Please, bore away,” grinned Tad.  “it’s got to be better than reading about cherry cokes at Woolworth’s.”

Trixie flipped open the old journal and read aloud.

 

This journal is for my eyes only.  If my mother knew how Johnny and I felt about each other, she would forbid me to see him.  I think she was glad he missed the family picnic due to his boot camp.  But I missed him terribly.  When he came back, I wanted to be with him so badly. It kills me to think that he’ll be over in Europe around all those beautiful french women.  I want him to think of me and only me.  I talked it over with Wanda and I’ve decided to give myself to him.  I want him to have some romantic thoughts to keep him warm at night when he’s stuck in some rabbit hole (or whatever they call those trenches.)

 

“This sounds like she was really in love with him,” said Tad. “Is there any more?”

“Yes.  But it just gets more detailed into their...uh… special night.”

“Oh?” Tad raised his brows in question.  

“Yeah.”  Trixie closed the journal.  “Apparently, they were both virgins. Do you really want me to read it out loud?”

“Probably not.”  Tad fanned the pages of the journal he still had in his hand.  “Now what?”

“Well, we know how they met and that he didn’t make it to the family picnic and they eventually had sex. I think I’ll give Aunt Alicia a call when I get home give her my updated information.”

“Including the sex?” Tad’s eyebrows shot toward his hairline.

“Everything but the sex” said Trixie firmly.  “There’s no way I’m opening that door with Aunt Alicia.” Trixie closed her journal and laid it on the coffee table in front of her.

“Are we done for the night?” asked Tad.

“I think so.” Trixie lifted her blond curls off her neck, then dropped her head back and sighed.

“What’s on your mind, Trixie?” Tad scooted closer and put his arm across her shoulders.

Trixie shrugged.   “This whole story now seems so sad.  Amy was in love with Johnny but she ended up married to Sam Walker.  Why? And what happened?”

“Maybe he never came back,” said Tad softly.

Trixie nodded.  “I know that’s a possibility.  But I can’t help but think if that were the case, someone in the family would have remembered that. Wouldn’t there have been a military funeral or something?”

Tad shrugged.  “I guess so. You do realize this mystery might not end well, right?”

Trixie nodded then abruptly raised her eyes and clenched her jaw in determination. “Yes.  But I still want to see this through.”

“Then we’ll still keep going through these journals.”

“Okay.”  Trixie rested her head on Tad’s shoulder, enjoying the warmth and feel of his worn flannel shirt against her cheek.  “Tad?”

“Yes?”

“Can we leave these boxes right where they are?”

“Absolutely.”

“Really?”

“If you think I’m going to move them again,  you’re crazy.”

“Good.”

Snuggled together, Trixie and Tad drifted off to sleep but were awakened when Spider came through the door.  Trixie disentangled herself from Tad, grabbed her bag then she and Tad walked down the apartment stairs to her car.  

“We’ll read some more tomorrow,” said Tad softly as he pulled Trixie close in the dark parking lot.

Trixie silently nodded.

“Hey, are you all right or do you need me to drive you home?” Tad peered into Trixie’s face, his eyes dark with worry.

“I’m okay.” She climbed into her car.  “I’ll call you when I get home.”

“I’ll be waiting,” promised Tad.  

After sharing one last good night kiss, Tad stepped back and watched  Trixie exit the parking lot. Then he went back inside to wait for her call.

 

***************

The next morning at work, Trixie took a minute to touch base with her mother.

“Hey, Moms,” said Trixie excitedly when her mother answered the phone.

“Hi, Trixie.  What’s up?”

“We found out the name of the baby in the picture.”

“You did?”

“Yes. His name is Zeeck Johnson.”

“Zeeck Johnson? So it’s possible he’s a relative.  But I’ve never heard of any relation by that name.”

“He didn’t like his first name and that’s why he went by the name ‘Johnny.’ I also learned that he was from Croton-on-Hudson.

“Oh.” Moms remained silent.

“Moms?”

“I’m still here, Trixie.  Now that I think about it, I do recall that we had cousins who lived in Croton-on-Hudson.  They were a bit odd so we rarely saw them.  I don’t think I could even tell you all their names. Do you want me to call Aunt Alicia?”

“Would you?  That’d be great, Moms.  I planned to do that this morning, but I haven’t had time yet.  And after you talk to her, can you call me back and tell me what she said?”

“Of course.  Now that we have a full name, I’m dying to know if she’s ever heard of him.”

“See how easy it is to get hooked on these mysteries, Moms?  Next thing you know, you’ll be wanting to open a detective agency.”

“I doubt that, Trixie. But I’ll add it to the bottom of my “to-do” list, right after skydiving.”

“Ooh, skydiving!  That sounds like fun.”

“Don’t even think about it, young lady.”

Trixie giggled into the phone.  “Okay.  And Moms, thanks for doing this.  I’ll talk to you later.”

Trixie disconnected the call and got back to her tasks around the shop, hoping to keep her mind focused on something else while waiting for the return call. She prepared several online orders for shipping then manned the front counter after a large group came in to shop. Trixie was in the middle of ringing up a customer when she felt the familiar alert from her phone.  Checking the caller ID, she called to Imogene.

“Can you finish for me?”

“Of course.” Imogene stepped up to the counter and Trixie bolted to the backroom where she would have some privacy. She clicked on the call while walking.

“Hang on a sec, Moms.  I’m going to the backroom.” After stopping long enough to point a customer toward the shelf of depression glass, Trixie went into the cluttered room, shut the door behind her then dropped into Imogene’s chair. “Okay.  Shoot.”

“I’m afraid your Aunt wasn’t much help.  I don’t know why she takes on these big sewing projects then gets all frustrated.”

“Moms!” Trixie’s palm hit Imogene’s desk, causing the pencils and pens that were piled into an old mug to rattle and jump.

“Sorry, Trixie.  Once I gave her the information you had discovered, Alicia did recall a relative named Zeeck Johnson. He was actually our grandfather’s brother.  But neither she nor I have ever met him.  However,  she does remember when we were little girls we went to a family funeral and she and I were playing with the condolence cards while everybody else was standing around talking.  Then somebody mentioned the name 'Zeeck' and everything got real quiet. That’s the only time she remembers hearing the name.  She did check the family bible and we there definitely had a distant cousin named Zeeck Johnson?”

Trixie shook her head.  “Why didn’t your family have contact with those Johnsons?”

Moms sighed.  “According to Alicia, there was a falling out over money and your relatives in Croton-on-Hudson refused to speak to the rest of the family. Actually, I don’t even think I ever met any of them. Remember, I told you we had little or no contact with them

“A falling out over money?”  Trixie leaned forward on her elbows.  “Do you know anymore about it?”.

“No.  And neither does your Aunt Alicia.”

“Hmmm.” Trixie sat silent while her fingers fiddled with a chain of paperclips.

“Trixie?”

“I’m still here, Moms.”

“I’m afraid that’s all the information I have.”

“That’s okay Moms. At least Aunt Alicia’s information matches mine.”

“And apparently, there’s been no known whereabouts of him for the last 75 years or so.”

“75 years!” Trixie did a rapid calculation in her mind.  “Do you think he’s still alive?”

“Oh, Trixie, I doubt it. He’d be almost 100 years old.”

“I know.  I just can’t help but think how wonderful it'd be to find him and bring him back and get to know him.”

“Trixie, that doesn’t even sound feasible,” cautioned Moms.

Frowning, Trixie disconnected then reconnected the paperclips while her mind processed what her mother had told her.

Finally, Moms spoke. “At least we can be fairly certain he is a relative. And that’s why the tyke in the photo looks so much like you.”

“That’s true.  But, Moms. I've just got to find out the rest of his story. I’ve just got to.”

“I figured you’d say that.  What’s your next move?”

“I guess I’ll continue to read Amy’s journals and see if there’s any more information about Johnny. Maybe she’ll tell us what happened to him.”

“If you need any help, I’m available.  And if you find any other family connections, don’t forget to let your Aunt know.”

“Thanks, Moms.  You’re the best.”

“Remember that the next time I ask you to help clean the basement.”

“I promise,” laughed Trixie.  She finished the call, then slid her phone back into her pocket. She tossed the paperclips into Imogene’s desk caddy then returned to the shop’s floor, hoping to stay busy so the rest of the day would pass by faster.

 

********************

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Author's notes: A very special thank you to my sister, Judith, who edited this story for me.  Her encouragement kept me going.  Also, thank you to Vivian for her patience. Picture by me!

Woolworths-retail company founded in 1879.

Wizard of Oz- an American musical released in 1939.

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