Page 55 of Lightning in a Mason Jar

“Actually, Winnie was the one who helped me find a creative outlet for my, uh, talents.” A grin played with Thea’s mouth as she smoothed a napkin over condensation from her glass. “Let me tell you, developing a way to disperse our message saved my sanity in those early days, when the boredom just about leveled me.”

June blurted, “And we used it in the cookbook. We found ways to send complimentary copies to women we’d heard might need to find a way out.”

“Along with a carefully worded letter,” Thea added, smiling to herself.

That seemed complicated for simply helping a few people. Those puzzle pieces were shifting while leaving big holes in the picture. “The cookbook that Gia insisted had brought her to Bent Oak? You knew all along why she’d come here? Then why didn’t you help her when she asked?”

“We wanted to.” June blinked back tears. “Winnie is gone. She was the glue.”

That was it? No help without Winnie? Her incredulity must have shown, because Thea tipped her head toward Libby.

“As you already mentioned,” Thea said dryly, “someone isn’t exactly a vault when it comes to keeping secrets any longer.”

Fair point. Bailey Rae opened her mouth to ask how long this had been going on if Annette had been gone for more than thirty years—

Except Thea shot to her feet and set the safe on the floor just as a fishing boat floated into view out on the river. “I’m going to get more lemon slices for the tea.”

And just that fast, the window to asking questions closed. Walls she hadn’t even noticed before were erected again. June began talking about her class “Beauty and Power” being offered in the fall session. Even Libby crocheted faster, her forehead furrowed in concentration that defied interruption.

Yet maybe it was just as well she had some time to process what she’d just learned. To reconfigure her own memories now that she knew about Winnie’s past. Uncovering the fact that her aunt had been involved in a highly sophisticated—highly illegal—activity blew her away.

Bailey Rae picked up her fork and tucked into the hummingbird cake, sugar and pineapple soothing her taste buds. Even easing her frustration. Not so much, though, that she would lose sight of her goal to find out when Winnie started her secret dealings. Or why her aunt had hidden thousands of dollars in her cabin.

And what was tucked away inside that little safe.

Chapter Fifteen

1981

Two years had passed since I told Russell I loved him. Since he assured me of his love in return. And during that time, we’d become partners in more ways than one. We united in our goal to help his grandmother as her health deteriorated.

Some days, it felt like a lifetime ago that we’d lost Annette. I kept turning around expecting to see her at the library’s checkout desk. I tried to keep my grief inside for Russell’s sake. After all, she was his grandmother. Not mine.

Continuing her work helped us both, but Annette had made it all look so seamless—so well planned—in those final years of her life she’d spent teaching me how to take over the network when she died. Person comes through. Person leaves with next ride.

Not the case, though, on the overheated June evening as, once again, I sat in the station wagon, parked on the shoulder with Russell waiting at the county line for the newest arrival.

This time in the pouring rain.

Between two washed-out roads.

With a broken air conditioner.

At least the eight-track player worked, piping Fleetwood Mac through the speakers. I fanned myself with a notepad, sweat making my legs stick to the seat, nerves stretched taut. I just wish our maidenvoyage in helping out could have been a better tribute to Annette, who’d died in her sleep six weeks earlier. We’d barely had time to grieve her death and get our bearings in the organization.

Somehow Annette had always managed to be on time, while working her library job and pitching in at the family gas station. But I’d managed to miss an all-important call about the timing. Then Russell had to make an emergency repair on the station wagon after the radiator overheated. Summer beach traffic had been rerouted through our little town because of road construction, which slowed us down even more once we got on the road. How fitting that the storm clouds then unleashed a wall of water. Even now the scent of radiator fluid clung to the vehicle, reminding me how close we’d come to failing tonight.

I touched Russell’s arm lightly. “Would you like a Coke? I’ve got a couple left in the cooler. Or maybe some snickerdoodles? They’re Annette’s recipe.”

“Nah. I’m good. Save them for the kid.”

“You’re right, that’s what Annette would do.”

Her funeral had packed the church, with people overflowing into the streets. Children had come up to the altar, donating favorite books to the library with handwritten messages inside. The stacks in front of the casket had been a beautifully heartbreaking tribute. I just wished there had been a way to celebrate all the other lives she’d touched who needed to remain anonymous.

So, in honor of Annette, it was up to Russell and me to handle tonight’s operation—a sixteen-year-old girl, the youngest I’d ever known to come through without a family member. I hadn’t been given many details, other than that her teacher and a pastor had reached out for help. After both of her parents went to prison, she’d been sent to live with distant relatives who thought nothing of pimping her out. Social services had been contacted multiple times, with no luck.

Our network was her last resort.

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