“Morgan?” Kara squints at Diana. “Any relation to Teresa Morgan?”
Diana should have realized Hamilton is like Alcott: Everyone knows everyone, everyone knows everyone else’s business.
Instead of answering, she seizes onto an unexpected idea: She could pretend. She could lie to this stranger; she could imagine a different Diana Morgan, a version that has not been shattered by loss. Every ounce of her body covets this other life where her husband is alive, where her family is whole, where there aren’t people breaking into her house.
What would this other Diana have done today instead of looking through old newspapers? Would she and Tom have made love when they woke, their bodies sticky with sweat, pressed together under the striped sheets he hated? Would they have cooked the kids blueberry pancakes for breakfast, laughing as Duncan read the comics and Phoebe told corny jokes, maple syrup smeared down the front of her pajamas?Diana’s desire for what she had before Tom’s death flares within her, a seductive pain she finds herself craving.
But pretending won’t bring him back.
Tom is gone.
Diana shakes off the last tendrils of that brutal fantasy and forces out a response. “Teresa is my husband’s aunt.”
“Husband’s aunt?” When Kara realizes who Diana is, her eyes soften. “You must be Tom’s wife then? I’m sorry for your loss.” She bustles over to the table and picks up a box labeledMay–June1982. She hands it to Diana. “You’ll want this box to see his high school graduation. My niece graduated the same year as Tom. TheStardid a nice summary of the ceremony, as it does for every senior class.” As Kara leaves the room, she points to her desk. “I’m available if you need anything else, and the publisher should be in later if you have questions for her.”
Once Kara leaves, Diana shifts the box containing Tom’s graduation to the far end of the table. “First things first,” she murmurs. Tom turned eighteen on June 30, after graduation, so that story will have to wait.
The first box she opens holds the July and August 1982 newspapers. It hits her then that she’s looking for evidence to prove her husband committed acrime.
She knew this, of course, but the truth of it makes her nauseated, and she begins to shake. Needing to calm herself, Diana remembers how each session of that support group she hated began with a meditation. It was the only part of those meetings she liked. She sits on one of the conference room’s hard wooden chairs, rests her hands in her lap, and inhales. She closes her eyes and lets out a slow exhale. She repeats this breathing four more times, and her agitation slowly ebbs.
On the last exhale, she opens her eyes and grabs a newspaper from the box. She reads about the search for an elementary school principal and the new parking guidelines for the local swimming hole. She pores over photos from the Fourth of July parade and town-wide picnic. The opinion page is filled with commentaries debating the merits of lettinga Dunkin’ Donuts franchise open in Hamilton, but the only crime she reads about is an article on page two of the last issue in July. A farm on the outskirts of town experienced a theft of equipment from its barn, when someone stole two saddles and several tools from an unlocked tack room. This was the fourth such burglary in the area since March, and the police requested assistance from anyone who had relevant information to help break the case.
Diana checks her watch; she’s been at theStaroffices for thirty minutes. She’ll have to read faster if she’s going to be on time to meet Chris.
She puts the July issues aside and turns to August, her fingers stained black from the newsprint. The first two weeks of the month are uneventful, filled with advertisements for back-to-school shopping, a reminder to contact Town Hall about broken water meters, and early predictions about the prospects of Hamilton High’s football team.
The August 19, 1982, edition is different. On the top left corner of the page, printed above the fold to emphasize its must-read status, is a stark headline:Barn Fire Kills One; Two Others Seriously Injured.
Diana’s hands tremble so violently the newspaper shifts across the table, almost falling to the floor. She grabs the corner and pulls back the paper, her eyes locked on the story under the headline.
An unidentified body has been found in the barn of Grace and William O’Connor, the article begins,discovered by investigators after Hamilton’s volunteer fire department put out a fire in the early hours of August 14. At this time, authorities are unable to say who the person was, if they had anything to do with the fire, or how the fire began.
A film covers Diana’s eyes, obscuring her vision. She blinks to clear them and turns to page three for the continued story. There she learns that the O’Connors both suffered life-threatening injuries and were taken to the hospital. Two horses also died in the blaze, and the barn was destroyed.
The last paragraph of the story ties the O’Connors to an earlierHamilton Starstory.In July, the O’Connors were burglarized. Severalitems went missing from their barn. That case, along with other area thefts, remains unsolved.
Large color photos of the barn, before and after the fire, fill the inside spread, along with profiles of the O’Connors. Grace and William were active in the community: William was a member of the vestry at the Episcopal Church, taught history at the high school, and sold the apples they grew on their land at the farmers market. With her sister, Grace ran a camp for disabled children on the farm, and her apple pie won second place in the 1981 Hamilton Autumn Festival.
Diana takes out her phone and snaps photos of the articles in case she needs to reference this news later. The next issue continues the front-page coverage of the fire and identifies the body as Carson Roy, a Hamilton High School graduate. The O’Connors, theStarreported, remain in the hospital.
Tom was eighteen that summer, home in Hamilton until his departure for college in August. The timing works. This fire could be part of Tom’s secret.
“Keep going, Diana,” she whispers, the words catching in her throat.
Throughout September, the paper reported how the town came together to help dispose of the timber and ash remaining on the O’Connors’ property after the fire, how the townspeople raised money for William and Grace’s medical care, and how Carson was buried in the town cemetery, next to his father and grandparents. His mother was his only survivor.
William O’Connor Dead, reads the front-page headline in an early-October issue.Lifelong Hamilton Resident Was History Teacher and Farmer. The article reports William never regained consciousness after the August fire, spending his last weeks in a medically induced coma. An infection overwhelmed his damaged body, and major organ failure followed. The doctors were unable to save him.
The newspaper includes a statement from the police chief. He explained that Carson Roy was responsible for the blaze. A search of his home uncovered items stolen from the O’Connors and others.“Mr. Roy was found under a collapsed beam. He was killed by that impact and by smoke inhalation,” the chief said. “Our theory is that he returned to the barn on August 14 to commit another crime and inadvertently started the fire that led to his and William O’Connor’s deaths. This case is closed.”
Diana is flooded with relief. This fire had nothing to do with Tom. Carson Roy was responsible, not Tom. She’ll have to keep looking.
An update on Grace’s condition is included in the same article. “She’s getting better, though she has a long journey ahead of her,” her sister Irene said. “We appreciate the continued prayers for her recovery.”
The stories about the O’Connors dwindle by December, though there is a sweet story about a community effort to shovel their driveway that winter.
Kara calls to Diana from her desk. “Find what you’re looking for?”
