Adermoor Cove Part 3: Many Sleepless Nights - 5. Chapter 5

While Deputy Carlos Santino had not been sleeping well for the past few nights, Lane slept like the dead.

Ted had graciously shown him around the cottage, taking him up the stairs to the second bedroom. Lane was able to put a load of laundry in the washer - he'd long since run out of clean clothes - and take a shower. He'd forgotten what it was like to be able to do these normal things. He wanted to give Ted a tearful hug; fortunately his pride and a healthy dose of trust issues kept him from doing so.

He woke up the next morning to the smell of coffee. He kicked on a pair of barely used slippers Ted said he could use, and climbed down the stairs. Each room in the cottage was small, the doorways and ceilings both low. Someone taller than Lane and Ted would have to stoop to be able to walk around without hitting their heads.

Ted stood at a small four burner gas stove, dressed in his bathrobe and slippers. He was humming a cheerful little tune when Lane sat down at the table.

"Good morning," Ted said. "How did we sleep last night?"

"Great, thanks."

"You must've. I had to get up several times in the middle of the night - enjoy the resilience of your bladder while you have it - and pee, and I didn’t hear you get up once. I have some coffee going. Would you like some breakfast?"

"I'm good." Lane yawned. "Maybe just some coffee."

Ted gave him a critical, almost fatherly look. "But you should, even if it's just a couple pieces of toast. Somehow I get the feeling you don't eat much."

Lane sighed and looked away in hopes Ted wouldn't see how embarrassed he was. "Sorry, I'm not trying to be rude. I'm just not used to someone trying to help me like this. I'm used to doing without breakfast...sometimes even dinner. I'll just have a couple pieces of toast."

Ted found this to be more acceptable. While the toast was heating up in the toaster oven on the counter, Lane looked around the cozy kitchen. There was a feeling of warmth and love he hadn't felt since Charlie was alive. Lane spotted a picture of Ted sitting next to a beautiful middle-aged blonde haired woman. She had a beautiful smile that made her Atlantic-blue eyes glow; yet there was something profoundly sad in that smile. He wondered if Margaret, Ted's wife, lingered around the cottage in some way, watching over her husband through the photo. It was held to the retro refrigerator by a pink heart shaped magnet.

It made him think of Charlie’s ghost - or if he was to consider Aunt Vanessa’s theory, part of his psyche which had taken on Charlie’s shape to get through to him - how he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him since the nightmarish night at The Rainbow Beret. I actually kind of miss him now he’s not around to verbally abuse me...or is it myself? Do I mean myself? Lane shook the thought from his head. He didn’t have time to think about crazy Freudian, para-psycho babble bullshit.

Ted set out a pitcher of cream and a bowl of sugar. Lane helped himself to both, stirring them in his coffee. He blew on it, took a sip. Ah, coffee...

While Lane and Ted ate and drank their coffee in silence, Lane began looking through some of the papers Ted had given him in a large manila folder. Inside he found a copy of an adoption certificate with Nora and Craig Hardy’s signatures on it. Craig Hardy had been Lane’s father. At the top, in big bold lettering, was the heading, ADERMOOR COVE CATHOLIC ORPHANAGE. Paper clipped to it was a photo of Nora and his father, Craig Hardy, holding a baby together. That’s me, Lane thought. It was weird seeing his father and mother together - even after finding out who his real mother was, he couldn’t stop thinking of Nora and Craig as his real parents. They were young in this photo, probably mid to late twenties. Nora’s face was free of lines and her eyes had a sparkle to them. Craig’s face was round, a little chubby. He looked like the kind of guy who would’ve kept all the comic books he had as a kid. Toward the bottom of the page was a signature next to WITNESS OF ADOPTION BY Sister Mary Ellis. The black pen ink was slightly smeared, as if the hand writing it had been using a gel pen.

“Where is the Catholic orphanage?” Lane asked, looking up from the folder.

“On the south side of town,” Ted said. “Why?”

“Is there any way you could give me a ride into town?”

“Certainly. I need to go into the office and do some paperwork anyway. Let me just finish my coffee and we’ll go.”

…

Not everything about Adermoor Cove was postcard picture perfect. Ted dropped lane across the street from the orphanage in a residential neighborhood of aged homes in need of repair. As Lane got out of the Maserati he looked around at the sagging porch steps and dusty windows. It reminded him of downtown Indianapolis. No matter where you go every town has a ghetto side to it, Lane thought. A group of children, brother and sister from the look of it, stopped playing with their toys long enough to peer at him suspiciously from the porch they played on.

“I’m going to be at the office until five,” said Ted. He handed Lane a business card and a fifty dollar bill. “The business card is so you can call me if you need anything. If you bump into any trouble don’t hesitate to call me. And the money is for if you get hungry.”

“Thanks.” Lane tucked the money and business card in his back pocket. He felt embarrassed to be taking money from someone else but knew it was smart to take it just in case.

“Do me a favor,” said Ted. “Don’t do anything to get yourself in trouble. And watch yourself. People have a way of seeming nice around here when they’re really spying on you. And watch out for Sheriff Enzo. Stay away from him.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Lane said. “I’ll be fine.”

The orphanage stood across the street from him, a big three story Victorian house with white siding, black shutters, and a witch-hat roof. The house itself looked much more maintained than the houses around it. The paint wasn’t peeling, and the shutters were drawn back to let in the light. Massive oak trees stood watch over the house and the children who played beneath them. He spotted three nuns, a younger one and two older ones roaming the lawn, keeping an eye on the children. One of them blew into a whistle hanging from around her neck, shouting at a group of children to stop creating a commotion. They looked strange, almost otherworldly in their black habits, wood bead rosaries hanging around their necks. Lane was grateful Nora and Craig had never been churchgoers.

With the scene set before him he realized it was foolish for him to come here. What if he was turned away? It had been twenty-four years since the day his parents adopted him, what if Sister Ellis was no longer here? Anything could have happened to her in the last two and a half decades. And if she was here what if she decided to call Enzo on him? It would be back to the jail cell and this time Enzo might just put a bullet in him.

Lane took a deep breath and gathered his courage. He didn’t have time to lose his resolve now. Ted had gone to the office and Lane was supposed to find whatever information he could. He crossed the street, the manila folder clutched firmly in his hands.

Considering all the crap I’ve been through I have a right to be here, he told himself.

He passed the two oak trees on both sides of the concrete path and climbed up the porch steps. He kept expecting one of the children to scream in fear but no one did. No alarms were raised. He was just about to open the door when another nun stepped out.

She saw him and her eyes widened slightly. “Can I help you?” she asked.

“Yes,” Lane said, his nerves ajitter. He pulled out the paper from the top of the folder and showed her the snapshot. “My parents adopted me from here a long time ago. This is me.”

She took the picture from her and squinted at the picture. She was young, maybe in her thirties, with a dusting of freckles across her nose and face. He imagined trying to be cellibate at her age, not being able to smoke pot or drink beer. I don’t care how awesome heavens supposed to be, I couldn’t be a monk, he thought.

“I was wondering if Sister Mary Ellis still works here.”

The nun handed the paper back with a smile. “Yes, she is.”

“Is there anyway I could speak with her for a few minutes? I don’t mean to show up unannounced like this but I’ve come a very long way and I have a lot of questions.”

"Let me ask her. Wait here." The screen door groaned as the nun went back inside. Lane turned back to face the yard and waited.

A young girl, perhaps six or seven, watched him curiously from a few feet away. She clutched a Barbie doll to her chest as if protecting it with her life. She had thick straw colored hair and dark blue eyes.

"Why do you wear eyeliner?" she asked him.

"Why do you ask?"

She smiled. "Only girls are supposed to wear makeup."

He chuckled despite himself. "When I was a kid, about your age, my biggest dream was to become a rock star. Like the ones from the 80's. I guess I look like Billy Joe Armstrong instead."

The little girl tilted her head to the right. "Who's that?"

Lane widened his eyes, feigning shock. "Why, he's only the singer of Green Day!"

The little girl giggled. "You're funny. I like you." Then she turned and sprinted back into the crowd of children with the Barbie doll still in her hand.

The door opened again and the young nun who had gone to check on Sister Mary Ellis came back out with another in tow.

"Thank you, Sister Stacy," said the older nun. "I'll take it from here."

Sister Stacy smiled at the older nun, and then at Lane before stepping off the porch and crossing the lawn.

The older nun appraised Lane from behind her wire glasses. It was impossible to tell just how old she was. Though her face was wrinkled with age, her eyes crinkled, her mouth lined from frowning, Lane could sense only resilience about her. There was a sharpness in her eyes that said she'd seen and confronted many shadowy things.

Now she smiled at Lane and gestured for him to sit in one of the rocking chairs. "I'm Sister Mary Ellis," she said. "And you must be Lane Hardy."

"How do you know that?" Lane asked.

"Because when your Aunt Vanessa, may God rest her soul, put you up for adoption to get you away from the darkness that infects this town I knew you would return, and I think, though she didn't want to admit it, so did Vanessa. People who are born on this island and leave Adermoor Cove always come back one way or another I'm sorry to say."

"So you knew Aunt Vanessa?"

"Oh yes. We shared the fact neither of us are blind to what goes on in this town. Many people keep their blinders up, deny what their eyes and hearts tell them, but not us." Her face softened. "I'm sorry she died and I'm sorry you had to come back to the place. I remember the day your parents adopted you - they looked so happy to be holding you. I knew they'd be the perfect parents. How are Nora and Craig?"

"Mom is a psychologist who runs her own business," said Lane. "Dad...he died. Fell down the stairs and broke his neck. It was an accident."

Lies, a voice inside his head whispered. It wasn't an accident and you know it.

"I'm sorry," Sister Ellis said. "He seemed like a good man."

"He was."

"I know you came here for answers," said Sister Mary Ellis, rising to her feet. "I don't have many but I might be able to shed some light on whatever you're looking for. Come with me."

They stepped into the large parlor of the house, passing the winding staircase. The inside of the house smelled slightly of vinegar. Sister Mary Ellis led Lane down a long hallway with doors on both sides. Each door had two names spelled out with glittery letters cut from construction paper.

At the end of the hallway Sister Mary Ellis stopped at a wooden door. She produced a key from around her neck and unlocked it. On the other side wooden steps led down into a basement. "This is where I keep all my records," said Sister Mary Ellis. "Be careful, the steps are very steep." She chuckled. "I can't tell you how many times I've almost tumbled down them head first."

The steps shook beneath their feet. Lane placed his hands on both sides of the wall since there was no rail to hold onto. He only half listened as Sister Mary Ellis grumbled something about the state not giving the orphanage the funding they needed to keep the place up. "Though I suppose I shouldn't complain," she said, reaching the bottom of the stairs at long last. "God always provides."

"Amen," Lane said in relief when his feet touched the ground.

Sister Mary Ellis reached into the dark. A bare light bulb blinked on, barely illuminating the basement. Pushed up against the farthest wall were a set of filing cabinets. Sister Mary Ellis turned on another lamp in the corner of the basement, which provided light. Lane looked around in distaste. He kept expecting to see a rat or two scurrying across the floor in search of cover.

“This is where I keep all the records,” said Sister Mary Ellis, pointing at the filing cabinets. She opened one of the drawers and pulled out a large black book. It was so big she had to hold it with both hands. With a small grunt she handed it to Lane. “Before she found out she was terminally ill, Vanessa gave me this to give to you. She figured you would be coming by the orphanage looking for answers.”

Lane took the book and sat down in a wooden chair. The pages were yellowed and dusty with age. Inside were newspaper clips from The Adermoor Cove Chronicle, dating back from the early ‘50’s to last year and police reports, and recorded interviews. Goldmine, Lane thought. This is the mother-load right here.

“Are these actual articles?” he asked. “Have they been altered in any way?”

“No. These are the real deal. I know it’s not much but Vanessa thought it would be a good place to start. I just hope it’s enough.” Sister Mary Ellis sighed. “I don’t mean to rush you but can we go back upstairs. I don’t like being down in this basement any longer than we have to.”

They went back upstairs. Sister Mary Ellis found Lane a sturdy canvas bag to put the scrapbook in. Back on the porch she said, “There’s one more thing I want to give you. I don’t know how spiritual you are or what your beliefs are but I am very spiritual, obviously. Otherwise I would not be a nun.” She reached and grabbed the rosary and held it out to Lane. “My belief is God leads us to the places where we’re supposed to be at the exact time we’re supposed to get there. I believe today, right now, you are here for a reason Lane Hardy. I want you to take this.”

Lane took a step back, shaking his head in negation. “No way.”

“I got this the day I took my vows and gave my life completely to God. I sense like me, you have been through many dark times. And unlike me, due to your youth, you will go through many more. Through this God has guided me. He has kept me from straying off His path into the dark. He sees and hears all and He is not blind to our pain. Please take it - for me.”

Lane sighed and took the rosary from her hand. The moment he put it around his head and felt the crucifix touch his flesh cold chills crept up his spine, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

“And if you need spiritual guidance or there’s anything I can do to help you in your quest for answers you know where to find me,” said Sister Mary Ellis.