Forgotten Boxes (18 page)

The night’s rest had restored Lynnie Danbury. Twisted body and
all, she felt well enough to play hostess again. The moment the younger couple appeared,
she offered to cook breakfast. Tarn told her about Charity’s pancakes; Lynnie’s
puckered cheek dimpled with a smile and she promptly offered what was left of the
pumpkin-maple cake. Too full to eat another bite but wanting to please his mother,
Tarn and Charity both accepted cups of steaming hot coffee and fresh, cold apple
cider.

Once they moved into the dining room, the mood shifted. A sense
of unease crowded into the large room, congesting the air with dread. Lynnie Danbury
was not the only one having trouble breathing.

Like the night before, they gathered round the dining room table.
All eyes were upon the box in the middle of the table. They ogled it with something
akin to horrified fascination, as if waiting for the package to take on a life of
its own.

The silence was overbearing. When she could take it no more,
Charity blurted out, “I never meant to upset you! Please believe that. I only thought
to deliver the package to its rightful owner. It-It was supposed to be fun.”

“Where did you say this came from?” Gavin asked warily.

“My aunt’s estate. I found four boxes in all, stuffed inside
a bag in the shed. You seem to be familiar with Kingdom Parcel, so I suppose you
know that the driver…died while on his route. I think these might have been on the
truck that day. They were all marked March 14, 1984.”

Lynnie gave a hoarse cry. “The day of the accident,” she whispered.

Surprised she knew the details, Charity nodded. “My aunt’s husband
was a driver for Kingdom Parcel.”

“Harold Tillman was your uncle?” Lynnie’s voice came out sounding
strangled.

“Yes. Did you know him?”

Lynnie gripped her husband’s hand as her face paled. In turn,
Gavin sent their son a sharp look. “You’re sure she’s not a reporter?”

It was an odd question, but Charity noticed Tarn did not look
surprised. In a calm voice, he just said, “Yes, Dad.”

“You trust her?”

When Tarn looked over at Charity, his intriguing gray eyes filled
with emotion. Reaching out to take her hand, he held her gaze and answered, “Completely.”

Warmth burst through Charity’s soul. He did not elaborate, but
the gentle rumble in his voice spoke volumes. She entwined her fingers with his
and squeezed.

“So that’s how it is,” Gavin clucked, a smile working across
his face.

Tarn looked uncomfortable. The tops of his cheeks turned pink,
but he did not shrink from his father’s inquisitive stare. “I reckon so.”

Charity squirmed beneath the unrelenting gaze when it turned
upon her, but if Tarn could acknowledge his feelings, so could she. She lifted her
chin a fraction of an inch, daring the man to doubt her sincerity.

After a long, embarrassing, agonizing moment, Gavin Danbury threw
back his bearded head and laughed. “Well, that’s good enough for me!”

Heart-warming moment aside, she was thankful the subject changed.
“Like I said, I don’t know the particulars. I have no idea how the boxes came to
be in her shed, but somehow it didn’t seem right to dispose of them, not without
at least trying to find their owners. I’ve delivered two of the four. The last has
an address that is no longer viable. But this one…I believe this one belongs to
you?” She nudged the package forward ever so slightly.

Neither of his parents spoke, but Tarn noticed how the scars
on his mother’s face stood out in stark relief against her colorless skin. “Ma?”
he prodded. “Do you remember anything about this package?”

When Gavin would have protested, Lynnie stopped him with a shake
of her hand, parts of two fingers conspicuously missing. “If only I could forget,”
she whispered, a wistful note in her voice. She offered a wan smile to their guest.
“Charity, I’m sorry about last night. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I was just
so surprised. I-I never thought I would see that box again…” Even as she spoke to
her son, her eyes lingered on the box. “And Tarn, you only know part of the story.
It’s not something I often talk about.”

“And you don’t have to now,” Gavin insisted.

“No, my mind is clear today. Let me do this while I can get the
details straight.”

Despite beginning, Tarn’s mother did not continue. After a delayed
moment, Charity gave her a gentle prompt. “It appears the name begins with an ‘E’.”

“Yes.”

Charity shot a glance at Tarn. His mother was not making this
easy. “It’s rather heavy.”

Her answer was cryptic, muttered beneath her breath. “You have
no idea the weight that box carries.” She seemed to shake herself mentally. With
obvious effort, Lynnie Danbury collected herself and dragged her gaze away from
the box.

“To understand the box, you first have to understand the story
behind it.” She took a deep breath. “The winter of ‘84 was a hard one. You boys
were little and the bills were piling up, especially after your father got hurt.
Even with two stores up and running, we could hardly make ends meet. I took a job
down the mountain, at a new company called Kingdom Parcel. Mostly I was a secretary,
doing things like answering the phone and filing and making coffee. I had my own
desk with a little nameplate that read ‘Evelyn Danbury’ in shiny gold plate.” She
panned her mangled hand in the air, remembering the pride she felt the first time
she saw the plaque. “Soon, they put me in charge of Accounts Receivable.”

Evelyn Danbury—Lynnie to her family—shifted in her chair, trying
to get her crooked body comfortable as she continued her tale..

“On paper, Harold Tillman was president of Kingdom Parcel, but
it was an empty title. The real power belonged to Mansel Debarge and Pascal Galano.
Even the bookkeeper had more power than he did. Your uncle was a likable enough
man, but perhaps a little self-important.” She darted a glance at Charity, reluctant
to speak ill of her family. “He had an inflated ego, to be quite honest. And the
others knew how to use it to their advantage. They made up rules to suit their own
needs and gave him credit for it all, knowing he would go along with anything as
long as it came with praise. They led that poor man around like a dog on a leash,
doling out pats on the head and what amounted to dog treats, just enough to keep
him trailing quietly behind while they called all the shots.”

“I did wonder why the president of the company drove a delivery
truck,” Charity murmured.

“I’m sure they convinced Mr. Tillman it was his idea. We had
a program known as ‘Preferred Customers’. Supposedly your uncle’s brainchild, but
of course he had nothing to do with it. Basically, it allowed special treatment
for our best customers. Other deliveries might be bumped until the next day in order
to accommodate these special few.”

“That doesn’t sound so unusual. It’s like First Class packages,”
Charity shrugged. “I’m sure they paid for the privilege.”

“You would think. But remember, I was in Accounts Receivable.
There was no record of ever billing the companies. In fact,” Lynnie recalled, “there
were no records of them, at all. Mr. Tillman and I noticed the discrepancy by accident.
We started a quiet investigation, trying to get to the bottom of these mysterious
companies, even though the bookkeeper watched us like a hawk. Her name was Brenda…Simons,
I think it was. Yes, that sounds right. But it appeared the companies simply didn’t
exist.”

“If they didn’t exist, how were they shipping packages?” Tarn
asked.

“Our question, exactly. It seemed the boxes would appear in the
warehouse overnight. So I began to mark the dirt road out front, to see if incoming
trucks delivered the packages during the night.”

Charity was amazed. She tried to imagine this frail, physically
challenged woman, sneaking about in the dark, marking trails. “How did you even
know to do that?”

Lynnie managed a smile. “I raised three sons, dear. I’m married
to a hunter. You can’t live in these mountains your entire life and not know how
to mark a trail and set a trap.” The answer amused her audience, but Lynnie ignored
their chuckles. The humor died in her eyes as she took a deep breath. “The lines
were never crossed.”

“They were doing something illegal in the warehouse,” Charity
guessed on a breathless note.

Lynnie nodded. “Yes, but we weren’t sure what. There were so
many oddities. Packages shipped from false companies, overheard conversations, the
pad-locked door, the useless president.” Another deep breath, this one of courage.
“Around this same time, a few counterfeit bills began showing up at the store. And
then the rumors started. In small towns, people like to talk. We had just opened
a second location. Where had we gotten the money, they wondered. Had we printed
it up ourselves? Your father tried to protect me from the vicious circle of rumors
and lies, but I knew what people were saying behind my back.”

“Never wanted you to know,” Gavin murmured. “Some of those folks
were our friends.”

Tarn put the pieces of the story together in his mind. “You discovered
a counterfeit ring, didn’t you? They were printing it at the warehouse and shipping
the money out in packages.”

“It took us a while to realize it. Brenda watched our every move,
so we had to meet at Dan’s after work. After just a few meetings, another sort of
rumor started, this one much more vicious.” She shot an apologetic look at her husband.
Talking was difficult, as much because of the content, as her lungs. “We knew we
were making Debarge and Galano nervous. We knew we were on to something. I had a
plan, but I knew it was dangerous…”

Charity gasped. “You didn’t!” she breathed.

“I did.” Evelyn’s eyes moved back on the package resting in the
middle of her dining room table, proof of her nefarious deed. “It was the only way
to know what was inside those boxes. So I snuck onto the truck and changed out a
label.”

When she paused to draw in several deep breaths, the others worried
the story was too difficult for her to tell. Charity hurried to bring a glass of
water and Tarn offered to bring her oxygen. Gavin hovered by her side, patting her
hand and watching her with anxious eyes.

“I’m fine,” she insisted. “I need to tell this.”

She closed her eyes as she recalled the details. “I was so certain
no one saw me…It only took a moment to slip in and put a new label on the box… But
then the day fell apart. Every-Everything starting happening at once. Dunn Motors
called, furious that Mr. Tillman hadn’t delivered their package first thing. Galano
went ballistic. I could hear him screaming at the warehouse workers, demanding to
know what happened to the box… Then I took a message for him. I knew it was in code;
something about Patsy came by and caused a scene…”

“Lynnie, please,” Gavin begged his wife. “Stop.”

She ignored him. Her eyes glazed, lost to a moment in the past.
“I went back to my desk. Debarge came in, demanding to know the route for the day,
demanding to know where he could find Mr. Tillman.” She swallowed hard, her voice
low. “He turned and looked at me. And I saw it in his eyes….” Her voice dropped
even lower, a painful scrape against her raw throat. “And then… and then they sent
me on an errand.”

Stillness fell over the room, crushing with its weight. “What
sort of errand?” Tarn was compelled to ask, his own voice like gravel.

“The post office, I think.” Lynnie rubbed her forehead with scarred
and twisted fingers. “Yes, that seems right. Both men left before me, and I wondered
why they couldn’t drop the letters off themselves. But I decided maybe it was for
the best, because maybe I could find Mr. Tillman first, and warn him. But-But I
never made it past the big bend...”

Drawn and pale, she lifted her face to look at Charity. Scars
puckered one cheek and crawled down the side of her throat. Her chin was a series
of cuts and gashes, long since stitched together in ragged lines. “I haven’t always
looked like this, you know,” she rasped. “I haven’t always been crippled. But on
March 14, 1984, that all changed.”

Charity blanched. Her stomach twisted in a hard knot. For a long
moment, the story left all of them speechless. Silence bounced off the walls.

“The next few months were a blur for me.” When Lynnie picked
up her story, her words were faint. “I was more dead than alive. And your poor father
had to brave the vicious gossip by himself. I never wanted you boys to know, but
you heard the whispers through the years. Some said… some said I was involved with
Harold Tillman. That we were embezzling from Kingdom Parcel and planning to run
away together. Rumor had it that we had a terrible argument and I was too upset
to drive. Gossips claimed that when Mr. Tillman heard about my accident, he was
overcome with guilt and took his own life, right there on the side of the road.
Lies, of course. Every one of them.”

Tarn had heard them a time or two, but he never believed for
a moment that his mother was having an affair.

Another long moment of silence and Charity asked, “But… how did
my aunt get the boxes? If they were on the truck...”

Gavin was the one to reply. “Can’t answer that one,” he said.
“Kingdom Parcel folded that same day. Debarge and Galano cleared out before the
law even got there. With no one left in charge, the business died with Harold Tillman.”

“What about the counterfeit ring?”

“Never found proof. Officials seized the property and found an
illegal chop shop, but no signs of counterfeiting. Never was much of an investigation,
mind you. Since Harold Tillman was president, police figured he took the easy way
out and killed himself. Case closed.”

“I’m confused,” Charity admitted. “So Kingdom Parcel was a front
for stolen auto parts, not a counterfeit ring?”

“Not exactly,” Gavin denied. “Police never found actual proof,
but a counterfeit ring made sense. They had the perfect set-up. Crank out funny
money, pick up stolen parts, stick it all in a box, and ship it off to a couple
of crooked auto shops. Mark my words, those cars went out filled with more than
a fresh tank of gas! Debarge and Galano were in cahoots with a gambling hall, too.
With a crooked dealer at the table, a poker game was the perfect way to pass out
bogus bills.”