The Letter - Chapter 41

I woke up around 7:30.  There was a chill in the air. I wrapped myself in my bathrobe and turned up the furnace a notch.  I walked into the kitchen and looked out the window.  Cloudy, but at least it wasn’t raining.  Coffee or tea?  It felt like a coffee morning.  I made a small pot.  While the coffee was brewing, I decided to make myself oatmeal as a treat.  I just couldn’t face a bowl of cold cereal and milk on a chilly morning like this.  I added butter, a little milk and some maple syrup to the warm cereal, poured a steaming cup of coffee and sat down to eat my breakfast. 

I considered skipping church, but knew that my absence would likely worry Beverly.  Still, it was early.  I didn’t need to start getting ready for another hour.  I finished my breakfast and walked to the front door to look for the Sunday paper.  I glanced at the front page and then pulled out the editorial section.  That reminded me that George’s editorial was due to be published in Pittsburgh’s paper today.  I considered leaving the paper and going to my computer to search for his story, but decided I’d wait till after church.  It would be nice to send him a message after I saw it. Pittsburgh is three hours ahead of the time here. I pictured George and his daughter discussing his article while enjoying a late breakfast.  Or maybe by now he’s at church, receiving compliments on the article from members of his congregation.  I found that to be a pleasant thought.  I hoped he was a church member, though I had no reason to believe he was.

I poured myself another cup of coffee and continued to read the newspaper.  There was continued conflict in the Middle East.  The North Korean dictator had made a bellicose speech threatening to build more missiles and bombs.  Locally, there was a shooting downtown – two dead and four hospitalized.  The shooter was in custody.  George, I thought, the country needs more people like you to speak out against this kind of senseless violence. 

I poured the last of the coffee into my mug and checked the clock.  Time to get ready for church.  I carried the mug of coffee into the bathroom and turned on the shower.  The hot water felt good.  I stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around myself and picked up my mug.  I finished the last few sips and carried it into my bedroom and got dressed for church.

The Gospel reading was from Matthew – Jesus preaching the Sermon on the Mount.  The passage that stuck with me was when Jesus said, ‘[L]et your light shine among others, so that they may see your good works.’  I thought about George’s article and the good work he was doing.  After the service, I met up with Beverly at coffee hour.

“Good morning, Ellie,” said Beverly, setting down her coffee and a plate of cookies.  “You need to have some of these.  They’re delish.”

“Thank you.”  I picked up one of the cookies and took a bite.

“So how are things with you and George?  Has he popped the question yet?”

“Sheesh, Beverly.  We’ve only just begun to message each other.”

Beverly started singing, “We’ve only just begun . . . to message . . . each o-other.”  She cleared her throat.  “That’s going to need a little work.”

I laughed.  “Not quite Karen Carpenter, but I’ll bet they could use you in the choir here.”

“You think they have room for a female baritone?”  Beverly dug into her purse.  “Here.  I’m returning the nasty letter that George didn’t write.  I’m pretty sure his daughter didn’t write it either.  Yes, I talked to her.  No thanks required.  Anyway, I’m at a loss as to who could have done such a thing.  I would probably have to travel to Pittsburgh to figure it out.  And as much as I enjoy traveling, I have to admit that Pittsburgh is not on my bucket list.”

“It’s actually quite nice.  So many people still have the outdated image of Pittsburgh as a smoky industrial city.”

“No matter.  I’m turning the case over to you.  Any plans for this afternoon?”

“Not really.  George got an article published in the Pittsburgh paper.  I’m going to go online when I get home to read it.”

“Really, do you know what it’s about?” 

“Yes, it’s about the gun violence across this country and the lack of political will to do anything about it. He posted the article on his blog and then submitted it to the newspaper.  So actually, I’ve already read at least a version of it.  But it will be neat to see it published by the Post-Gazette.

“Good for George.  I’ll have to look for it. The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, you say?”

“Yes, that’s it. So after I see it, I’ll probably send him a congratulatory note on Facebook.  Beyond that, I’m not sure what else I’ll do.  It’s such a dreary day.  I’ll probably curl up on the couch with some tea and try to finish Gilead.”

“The Marilynne Robinson book?”

“Yes.  I’ve really enjoyed it so far.”

“Perhaps I’ll borrow it from you when you’re finished.  Well, I’m ready to go home.  What about you?”

I nodded.  We got up, tossed our waste in the trash can and walked together to the parking lot. 

“I’ve got nothing big planned all week,” said Beverly.  “Give me a call if you’d like to do something together.”

“Will do,” I waved as we got into our cars to drive home.

I arrived back home at just past noon.  I fixed myself a bowl of soup and a half sandwich.  When I finished lunch, I decided it was time to search for George’s article.  I found it easily enough on the newspaper’s website.  I was pleased to see that the paper hadn’t done much editing.  The article was close to the way it had appeared on George’s blog.  There was a blurb following the article which said that George was a retired lawyer living in Bethel Park and gave his email address.  There also was a place where readers could write comments on the article.  I started to read some of the comments.

The first few were complimentary. ‘Good article,’  ‘Nicely written,’  ‘Let’s hope your article motivates our politicians to responsible action.’  Then they got darker.  ‘I’ll never give up my constitutional rights or my guns, despite the efforts of people like you to take them.’  And there were a few that were downright scary.  ‘Aren’t you the guy that punched someone who was supporting the second amendment?  I know where you live George.’  I shivered at some of the creepy insults some of the commenters posted.

I went to Facebook to see if George had posted anything about the article.  There was nothing – not even a link.  I thought about sending him a message, but those comments made me want to tell him my concerns.  I realized I didn’t have a phone number for George.  Then I remembered that Beverly had said she had telephoned George’s daughter.  I telephoned my friend.

“Hello Beverly?”

“Hi Ellie.  I like your friend’s article.”

“Yes.  So do I.  But did you look at the comments section below the article?  Some pretty hateful stuff.”

“Really?  I can’t say I’m surprised.  Some of those gun people are crazy.”

“That’s what worries me.  I want to call him, but I realized I don’t have his number.  I thought I might search the internet, but then I remembered you saying you had called and talked to his daughter.”

“That’s right.  I have their land line number.”

She gave it to me.  “Thanks Beverly.”

“You’re welcome.  Give me a call if you reach him.  This will be the first time you’ll actually hear each other’s voices – at least since high school.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.  Okay, I give you a call later.”  I put down my phone and took a few moments to gather my composure.  Then I dialed George’s number.

The Letter - Part 3, Chapter 40

I sat in my robe and pajamas watching the local news.  The doorbell rang.  “What happened, Jennifer?  Did you forget your key?” I called as I headed toward the door

I opened the door.  There stood Jeff looking quite disheveled.  He was flanked by Liz and Mikey.  I stared at the three of them trying to understand the situation.  “Where’s Jennifer?”

“It’s sort of complicated,” Jeff started to say.

“What the hell are you talking about?  Young man, where in heaven’s name is my daughter?”

“Calm down, Mr. Leskovic,” said Liz.  “She’s fine.  Can we come in?  We’ll tell you everything we know.”

Jennifer’s three friends explained how Melissa had come into the dance and practically dragged Jennifer to the limousine.

 “Yeah, Jeff slugged the guy.  Didn’t even faze that damned bruiser.  Oh, sorry.” Mikey covered his mouth with his hand.  “Then security threw Jeff out of the dance.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t sure what to do,” said Jeff. “I didn’t have your phone number, and it wouldn’t have done any good to call Jen’s phone.”

“It was still in her purse on our table.”  Liz explained, handing Jennifer’s purse to me.

“I thought about trying to follow them or driving back here to tell you what had happened,” said Jeff. “But I knew the dance was almost over and I was responsible for getting Liz and Mikey back to Liz’s place, so I just sat in the car waiting.”

“Mikey and I tried to leave right away, but security stopped us to ask questions about what we had seen,” said Liz.  “But as soon as they let us go, we gathered up our things and left, hoping Jeff was waiting for us, which he was,” Liz added.

“Jeff, you did the right thing,” I told him.  “Though I’m not so sure hitting the guy was a good choice.”

“I guess I took a tip from you,” Jeff gave a wan smile.

“I suppose it will be a while before I live down that punch.  I think all of Pittsburgh saw it.”

“That’s what happens when you’re caught on film,” said Mikey.  “They replayed it over and over.  My dad says it made you the poster boy for the gun control movement.”

“If that didn’t, your article in tomorrow’s paper will,” said Liz.

“I wish we could have stopped them, but after security grabbed me, I wasn’t sure what else I could do.  At least they didn’t call in the township police.  They just gave me a stern warning and escorted me out.  My parents will probably ground me when they hear about this.”

“Well, they won’t hear about it from me,” I assured Jeff.

“Thanks, but I’m going to tell them anyway.  It’s better that they hear about this directly from me.”  Jeff paused, gathering his thoughts.  “You know, their grabbing Jen.  It almost seemed like a kidnapping.”

“That’s exactly what it was from a legal standpoint.  I’ll need to sort this out with my lawyer unless I can’t get my ex to voluntarily return Jennifer ASAP.  But that’s my concern, not yours.  You kids better get home.  It’s getting late.  I don’t want your parents to worry.”

The three of them stood up and started walking toward the door.  

“We’re so sorry this happened, Mr. Leskovic,” said Liz.

“Thank you, Liz.  We’ll get her back.”  I watched them walk to Jeff’s car and closed the door.

Immediately, I pulled my cell phone out of the pocket of my robe and dialed Melissa’s number.  Of course, she didn’t answer.  After listening to her message prompt, I said, “Listen, Melissa, you had no legal right to do what you did tonight.  You better bring Jennifer home, immediately.  In fact, I’m driving out to your place directly and you need to let her come home with me!”  I terminated the call and ran up to my bedroom to change into my clothes.

It was 11:30 PM by the time I got into my car.  It was a forty minute drive to Richard and Melissa’s estate.  I pulled up to the gate and parked.  There was a call button next to the gate, and I pushed it.  A few minutes later, a pack of guard dogs came running toward the gate. No doubt they were sent to discourage any thoughts I might have had about scaling the gate and pounding on their front door.  With the dogs barking viciously at me, I continued to push the call button, but after about 20 minutes it was clear that they were prepared to wait me out. 

There was nothing I could do for now.  I climbed back into my car and drove home.  It was close to 1:30 when I let myself in.  I called for Jennifer hoping Melissa had come to her senses and had brought her back.  But it was a vain hope; I checked her bedroom and it was empty. 

I changed back into my pajamas and poured myself a whiskey.  I sat in the dark sipping it, thinking through options.  I finished the whiskey and thought about pouring another.  I decided against it.  I’ll need a clear head in the morning.

The Letter - Chapter 39

The underclassmen had done a marvelous job decorating the gym for the annual Sweetheart Dance.  Red hearts and white lace were everywhere.  Centerpieces of pink and white pom poms graced each table along with bowls of heart shaped candy.  Three other couples joined Liz, me and our dates at our table.  I counted ten other tables of couples and a few tables for the students that came alone.  I noticed my tormenter-in-chief, Terry Morrison, among the group of boys that came stag.  As we were standing in the buffet line, I heard him remark from across the room.

“Whoo Hoo, Look!  Jenny Leskovic’s got a date.  Hey, Jen, what’s the deal?  Bethel guys not good enough for you?”

“Who’s that, Jen?” Jeff whispered.

“Just ignore him.  He’s always trying to get a rise out of me.  But I’m determined to not let him bother me tonight.”

Terry snickered and led his group of miscreants to the drinks table.  “This dance is lame.  There’s not even a punchbowl to spike,” I heard him say to the glee of his posse.

While we were eating, a DJ was setting up his equipment in one corner of the gym.  He played soft dinner music during the meal.  Then, when we had finished eating, they dimmed the lights and the DJ started playing dance tunes.

“C’mon, let’s dance.”  Liz said, grabbing Mikey by the hand and dragging him onto the dance floor.

Jeff looked at me.  “Would you like to dance?”

“Sure,” I said, getting up from my chair. Jeff led me to the dance floor.  The DJ played a good mix of contemporary dance tunes with a little hip hop thrown in.  Jeff showed some great dance moves and I tried my best to keep up with him.  We were both sweating despite the cold outside when we decided to take a break.  He walked me back to our table and offered to get us drinks.  He got us a couple of sodas and as he turned to come back to our table, I watched in horror as Terry Morrison walked up to him and started talking.  My horror turned to shock as Jeff’s face broke into a smile.  To my complete surprise, he shook Terry’s hand and then returned to our table.  Jeff smiled and shook his head as he sat down beside me with our drinks.

“What was that all about?” I asked.  At first, I thought you were going to slug him.”

“What would make you think I have a violent streak, Ms. Leskovic?  I have to admit after his comments earlier, I was concerned that he might try to pick a fight with me.  He called me ‘Stretch’ which put me a bit on edge.  So he says, ‘Yo Stretch.’ I turn around to face him and he says.  ‘You got some sweet moves on the dance floor.’  So I’m thinking, what’s this guy’s angle?  But I stand there listening politely, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt.  Then he says, ‘Your date, Jennifer Leskovic.  I tease her a lot, but I don’t mean anything bad.  What can I say, she’s smart, she’s pretty.  She’s damn near perfect, but don’t ever tell her I said that.  I’ll deny it till the ends of the earth.  But you’re one lucky dude, Stretch.  You’re one lucky dude.’” 

“He really said that?”

“Yeah, then he shook my hand.  I think he has kind of a crush on you.  He really didn’t strike me as a bad sort, and he’s right about one thing – no actually two.”

“Two?  What are they?”

“I’ve got some sweet moves on the dance floor, and I am one lucky dude.”

I felt myself blush and took a sip of my soda.  “I feel pretty lucky myself, tonight, Jeff.”

Jeff smiled and took a big gulp of soda.  “All that dancing makes a man thirsty.”

Liz and Mikey came back to the table.  Liz fanned herself.  “Is it warm in here or what?” she said.  “Looks like you guys are having fun.”   We continued to talk as the DJ took a break.  He returned about fifteen minutes later.  I looked at the clock.  It was 9:30. 

“Hey, you schoolboys and schoolgirls,” the DJ started.  “Only an hour left till your coaches turn into pumpkins, so get up and dance.  I’m especially talking to you guys that came without dates.  There are plenty of single ladies waiting for you to ask them to dance.  Or ready to ask you to dance.  Go girls!  He played Beyonce’s Single Ladies.  That got everyone up on the dance floor. 

He played another couple of dance tunes and then said, “We’re going to slow things down a bit, so grab your partner and hold on tight.”

Jeff looked at me and smiled.  He extended his arms.  I walked toward him and he embraced me and we swayed to the tune.  I put my head on his shoulder and felt him hold me tighter.  The song ended.  Jeff took a step back, still holding my hands in both of his.

“Now here’s a tune that goes way back,” the DJ said.  This is one your parents listened to as they slow danced and fell in love with visions of you dancing in their heads.  Pittsburgh’s own Jimmy Beaumont with the Skyliners singing, Since I Don’t Have You.”

“Do you know this one, Jeff?”

“I’m not sure.”  We stood silently, unsure whether to dance or sit this one out.  Then the song started.  “Oh, now I recognize it.  My mom practically goes into a swoon when she hears it.  Let’s dance to this one, Jen.”

I don't have plans and schemes
And I don't have hopes and dreams
I, I, I don't have anything
Since I don't have you

The song continued and we swayed to the music.  I felt Jeff’s hand on my back, holding me tight.  We were barely moving as other dancers slow danced around us.  I felt the song build toward its ending.

Since . . . I doh on't . . . have
You, you, you, you
You, you, you, you
You, you, you, you,
Oo, oo, oo, oo, oo, oo, oo, oooo.

“That was so nice, Jen.  Thank you.”  He bent down to kiss me, but before our lips could meet, I saw my mother standing ten feet away, scowling, with her arms crossed.  Henry the chauffeur was standing next to her.

“Jennifer, say goodnight to your gentleman friend.  I’m taking you home.  Come along quickly.”

“Mother!  What is this?”

“You’re coming to my home and your new life.  Say goodbye to Bethel Park.  Henry, bring her along.” 

Henry grabbed my arm and started dragging me across the dance floor.  “Let me go!” I screamed trying to wrench my arm from his iron grip.

“Let’s not make a scene, my dear.”

I looked at my mother standing there with a smug look on her face.  I was so angry I couldn’t think straight.  So I said the first thing that popped into my mind.

“Did you send that nasty letter?”

“What on earth are you talking about, dear?”

Jeff ran forward and threw a punch hitting Henry squarely on the jaw.  Two security guards came running forward and tackled Jeff.  As they restrained him, Henry rubbed his jaw and smiled at Jeff.   “Lucky for you, Mrs Zingerman alerted security.  Otherwise, they would be loading you into an ambulance, punk.” 

Henry continued pulling me out of the gym and outside the school to the limousine.  He roughly shoved me into the backseat.  My mother got in beside me, Henry got behind the wheel and I heard the locks click.  I gave the door a defiant shove.

“At least let me go back and get my purse and phone.”

“I’ll get you a new purse and phone, Jennifer.  Home, Henry.” 

The limousine pulled away from the school and onto the road.  Henry switched on the radio and hummed along with the song as I looked out the window, feeling alone and miserable.

End of Part 2

The Letter - Chapter 38

The doorbell rang.  I called up the stairs.  “Jennifer!”

“Dad, I’m not ready.  Please get the door.”

I walked over to the door and opened it.  A tall, blond young man in a dark suit stood on our front doorstep looking very cold.  “Come in!  Come in!”  I opened the storm door and welcomed him inside. He was carrying a smallish white box which I assumed contained a corsage.  “It’s cold out there,” I said.  Don’t you have an overcoat?”

“No.  My dad offered to lend me his, but the sleeves were a bit short.  Also, I didn’t want to have to deal with it at the dance.”

“Well, I’m assuming that you’re Jeff.  Jennifer is still upstairs.”

“Hello Jeff!” Jennifer called from upstairs.  “I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

“Well, it’s nice to finally meet you, Jeff.  You look very debonair.  Very sharp bowtie,” I nodded at his tie.

“Yeah, I really like them.  My mom said, if you’re going to sport a bowtie, you better learn to tie one.  She thinks those clip-ons look cheap.”

“I’ve been wearing bowties for years – since long before they became popular again.  And I couldn’t agree more with your mother’s low opinion of clip-ons.”

“I got three bowties for my birthday, which is in January.  I figured the red one would be good for this dance, since it’s sort of a Valentine’s Day dance.”

“Well, Jen’s wearing black, so red will definitely go with that.  If football season was still on, black and gold would have been the correct choice.”

“Yeah, Steeler’s colors.  But the Penguins are black and gold too.”

“Well, if it were the Stanley Cup finals, you probably would go with gold.  But the Penguins have got a way to go before they get there.  So you have your father’s car tonight?”

“Yes sir.”

“And Jen’s friend Liz and her date are coming with you?”

“That’s right.  You don’t have to say it.  I will be so, so careful.  My dad read me the riot act before handing me the keys.  ‘Don’t take chances.  Be on your best behavior.  If I smell even a molecule of alcohol on your breath,’ he told me, ‘you won’t drive my car again – ever.’”

“Sounds like you have parents who really care about you.”

The doorbell rang again.  It was Liz and her date.  I let them in.  Liz’s parents followed them in.

“I’ll be down in a minute!” Jennifer called.

“Hi Mr. Leskovic,” said Liz. “This is Michael Lanza.  And you know my parents.” 

Liz’s date extended his hand.  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Leskovic.  Everyone calls me Mikey.”

I shook his hand.  “Nice to meet you, Mikey.  Liz, Mikey, Darla, Jack, this is Jeff Radakovic.”  The two young men shook hands.  Liz was wearing a white jacket over her navy blue dress.  Her curly locks had been somewhat brought under control by an afternoon visit to the hair salon.  She had a wrist corsage with two white rosebuds, accented with navy blue and silver ribbon.  “You look very lovely, Liz,” I said.  Your corsage is very pretty.”

“I hope the rosebuds survive at least until we get to the dance.  It’s so cold out there!”

Jack Henderson said, “Where’s Jennifer?  We’re here to take some pictures!”

I heard movement from the second floor and turned around to see my daughter descend the stairs.  She looked stunning.  Her blonde hair and the string of pearls were a perfect contrast to her simple black dress.

“Wow. Uh, Jen.”  The boy looked shellshocked.  “You look amazing,” Jeff managed to get out.  “Uh, here, this is for you.”  He handed Jennifer the white box. 

She opened the box and pulled out a wrist corsage with two roses.  One was black and the other red. 

“Jeff, it’s lovely.”  She took it out of the plastic bag and put it on her wrist.  “There’s a boutonniere here also.  May I pin it on your lapel for you?”  It was a red rose but the edges had been colored black.  Jennifer pinned it on Jeff’s lapel.

“George, I assume you gave a stern warning to this young man who will be driving our precious daughters,” said Jack.

“And me too,” Mikey grinned broadly.  “He’ll be driving me too.”

“Who cares about you?” Jack gave Mikey a playful shove.

“Jeff, tells me his father took care of that, and I gave him a refresher.  With your comment, Jack, he’s been thrice warned.”

“Hey, everyone.  My dad, the writer, has an article on the front page of the Forum section in tomorrow’s paper.  Buy lots of copies!” Jennifer said.

“What’s it about, George?” asked Darla Henderson.

“It’s another pitch for a little sanity about guns in this country,” I said.

“Good luck with that, George,” said Jack.  “Thoughts and prayers, thoughts and prayers.  That’s about all you’ll get from the politicians who are on the dole from the NRA.”

“We’ve got to keep trying, Jack.  Anyway, read it and let me know what you think.  I don’t want to talk about it now.  I want to take some pictures of these beautiful and handsome kids.  Let me get my camera.”

“Just use my phone, Dad,” Jennifer said.  That digital camera of yours is at least ten years old.  My phone takes much better pictures.”

“You’re right, Jen.  Just show me how to work it.”

We snapped several poses until Liz announced, “We’ve got to go, parents!  Don’t make us late.”  The girls put their coats on over their shoulders and the boys looked miserably cold as they walked out the door to Jeff’s car.

"Bye, Dad.”  Jennifer waved to me. 

“Don’t wait up,” Liz joked as they got into the car.

Jack and Darla Henderson got into their car.

“And you better not follow us, Dad,” Liz yelled out the window toward her parents car.

“Lizzie!  Wind up that window.  It’s freezing!” I heard Jennifer say as Jeff pulled the car away from the curb.  I wiped a tear from my eye and smiled as I shut the door.

The Letter - Chapter 37

I yawned and stretched rubbing the sleep from my eyes.  I looked at the clock on the table beside my bed.  10:30. That’s early for me on a Saturday.  Sun was leaking in behind the room darkening blinds.  I grabbed my robe and put on my slippers and walked down the stairs to see what Dad was up to on a Saturday morning.  I walked into the kitchen and found a note from him on the kitchen table. 

Good morning, sleepyhead.  I decided to take a walk to the convenience store to see if they have an early edition of tomorrow’s paper.  I’m anxious to see my article in print.  Be back by 11:00.

Let’s see.  Hair and nail appointment at 1:00.  I wonder if Dad could be talked into making pancakes when he gets back.  I looked at the thermos on the table.  Dad had attached a sticky note with the words, ‘fresh coffee.’  I poured myself a cup and took a moment to enjoy the quiet of being alone with my thoughts.  No sooner had I taken a sip, and then the land line telephone started ringing.  We hardly ever answer it because anyone we really care to talk to will call our cell phones.  I told Dad we should just drop it, but he says it’s a good thing to have in an emergency, plus it was free with our internet service.  I listened to the mechanical voice identify the caller.

“Call from Issaquah double u, a.”

I jumped up and ran to the phone.  It could be the mystery letter writer calling for my father.  I picked up the receiver and hit the talk button.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this the Leskovitz household?”

Mystery lady wouldn’t mess up my dad’s last name.  “It’s Leskovic.  Sorry.  Goodbye.” 

Before I could hit the ‘Off’ button, the voice on the other end pleaded, “Wait!  I’m a friend!”

“Hello?” I said again.  “Who is this?”

“I’m sorry.   I should have identified myself right away.  I apologize for messing up your name.  This is Beverly Hershberger.  I’m a close friend of Eleanor Barnhart.”

“Okay.  This is Jennifer.  My father stepped out for a few minutes.  Should I let him know you called?”

“I am honored, Ms. Leskovic.  I understand that you are the crack detective that figured out who sent that mysterious letter to your father.  Isn’t that right?”

“Thank you, but I had a lot of help from my best friend, Liz.”

Well, I always say, every hero needs a loyal sidekick.”

“Liz is more than a sidekick.  She was a full-fledged member of my investigative team.”

Mrs. Hershberger chuckled at that.   “That’s good to know.  Anyway, the reason I’m calling is because I have somewhat of a mystery to solve, and I’m nowhere near as good as you and your friend Liz at solving mysteries.”

“What sort of mystery?”

“Let me begin by saying that I think it’s wonderful that my friend and your father are corresponding.  But I was afraid their friendship would be killed before the seed of it ever had a chance to sprout.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Did you know that my friend Ellie sent your father a second letter?  It should have arrived about two weeks ago.”

“Yes, my friend Jeff mentioned it to me, and Dad said your friend told him about it in a Facebook message.  But he never got it.  I guess it somehow was lost in the mail.”

“I know people talk about things getting lost in the mail. My late husband was an inspector for the U.S. Postal Service, and I remember him telling me that despite the huge volume of mail handled by the Post Office, it’s really quite rare for a letter to be lost.  But I guess it could happen.  You don’t think it’s possible that it could have gotten thrown away by mistake?”

“Would it have been purple like her original letter?”

“Yes.  Ellie has a stack of lavender stationery.  Do you remember seeing a lavender piece of mail?  By my calculation it would have arrived either Friday, January 27^th or Saturday the 28^th.”

“Well, Dad would have collected the mail on Friday since I was in school.  Let me try to think back to that Saturday.” I remembered that was the day my mother appeared to serve the custody papers on my dad.  She handed the mail to my father and I swear I saw something lavender in her purse.  I stood silent, considering whether I should rat out my mother.  “No, Mrs. Hershberger.  I can’t remember anything about the mail that far back.”

I heard her sigh.  Then she continued.  “Here’s the thing Jennifer – the reason why I could use some real help from a sharp young lady like you.  Things seem to be heading in the right direction with your father and my friend.  But I know that letter wasn’t lost in the mail.  The reason I know is because I’m holding in my hand the response to that letter.  And if it came from your father, I really wonder what kind of man he is.  Because the letter I’m holding is mean.  It’s nasty.  It sent my friend into a tailspin.  I feared she might do something drastic.”

“Really?  I can’t believe my father would do something like that.”

“Well, someone sent this, and I’d like to read it to you if you wouldn’t  mind.”

“Go ahead, ma’am.”  As she read the letter, I felt my legs start to tremble.  I started to pace around the room to try to calm myself.  If my father hadn’t written it, I felt almost certain that I knew who had.

“So Jennifer.  I want to believe someone other than your father wrote this.  Did you?”

"M-me? N-no! I stammered.  God, no.  I could never do that to him.”

“You wouldn’t have done it as a prank?  Or maybe because you’re afraid of what might develop between your father and Mrs. Barnhart?”

“No.  No way.  I wanted something nice to happen for him.  That’s why I worked so hard to figure out who sent the original letter.”

Mrs. Hershberger paused for a moment.  “Jennifer, I believe you.  But you have to believe me.  Someone sent this letter to my friend.  That person didn’t want Ellie and your father to become friends.  I want to figure out who this person is because he or she may not like the fact that despite their efforts, your father and Ellie are becoming friends.”

I heard my father’s key unlock the front door.  “My father is back.  I have to go.”

“Jennifer, let me give you my phone number.” 

“I’ll copy it from the caller ID.”

“Good thinking.  It’s a cell phone.  Think about our conversation and text or call me with any ideas that you come up with.”

“Sure.  Gotta go.”  I hung up the phone.

“Jennifer,” my dad called.  “Are you awake yet?  Come down and take a look at tomorrow’s Forum.  My article is on page 1 of the section”

I rushed to meet him.  “I’m up.  I was just having a cup of coffee.  Let me see. Let me see!”