LGBT existed a long time before the labels came into being. Bigotry and discrimination were there at the same time. This is a story how those attitudes can affect our descendants.

Chapter 6 - The Plot Thickens

by Monica Rose and Marina Kelly
Editor: Qmodo

Once she had finished breakfast, Mary headed back over to the library. As she pulled into the parking lot, she saw Patrick standing outside the building, arms folded and looking upset. Getting out of her car she rushed to his side, "Pat, why are you pacing around out here?"

"I just got here and found the front door to the library open." He kept looking up at the building as if he were expecting someone to come out.

"Have you gone inside?" She was a bit confused as to why Pat was standing out here. It could be a simple reason after all.

"No, not yet. I just got here. I'm not the only one with a key to the doors, but I usually know when someone will be here and it is rather early in the morning for one of the town council to be here. I'm smart enough to not go in without some backup and I was waiting for you to be my backup."

Mary Sue was shocked. She was a lot of things but not a trained SWAT team operative.

He stopped for a moment and said, "If I'm not back in five minutes call the cops."

Mary Sue breathed a sigh of relief and dug her phone out of her purse.

"Be careful Pat, they may still be in there." Then Mary Sue watched him disappear behind the large door.

Despite Pat's warnings, she moved up to the double doors so that she could see inside. She was kneeling just outside the door, examining the lock, when Pat came running back to the front.

Breathlessly he related, "I've been through the building, but whoever was here is gone. My office and the main floor appear to be undisturbed. It looks whoever they were focused their efforts on the basement. I didn't do an inventory, but all the newspapers we were working on yesterday are gone."

As Mary continued to kneel and examine the lock, Pat had to ask, "What are you doing?"

"I was just looking to see if the lock had been forced."

He frowned at her. "This may sound patronizing, but you appear to know what you are doing. I thought you were a college student."

She smiled at him. He was right, it did sound patronizing, but not really insulting. "I'm a history research specialist. Since we deal mostly with dead people and past events, we are trained to look for explanations to puzzles. Also, my uncle is a locksmith. I spent a couple of summers working with him and I was the only one with patience enough to get some of the really stubborn locks open." She looked up at Pat and said, "This lock was not forced."

A flustered Patrick tried to use humor as a way to apologize for underestimating this fascinating woman. "Sherlock, are you sure about that?"

Mary bantered back, "It's elementary, my dear Watson, there is nothing to indicate forced entry and I can't see any signs of it being picked; in fact, this lock is pristine."

"That makes sense; they're only a month old. All the locks were replaced."

Mary inquired, "Who has a key?"

Pat scratched his chin, "Well let me think. I have one of course, the town council has a key to all public buildings, the police and fire departments each have one for emergencies, that's all I know of."

Mary took Pat by the hand and led him down to the basement, "Let's do a detailed inventory of the files. What's missing might give us a clue as to what the vandals were after."

After an exhaustive search, the two found that the piles of newspapers they had gathered from 1897 and 1898. A disappointed Mary Sue brushed the dust from her hands, "That's too bad, keeping source documents are important, but not critical. I took plenty of notes yesterday and I got pictures with my phone of the most of the pages. The quality isn’t the best, but it’s readable. I think we got most of the information that was available already. I can see if the historical society can fill in any blanks that I might see. I'm not sure if the microfilm copies will be very useful though."

"Are your notes safe?" Patrick asked, concerned that her work might be in jeopardy.

Mary Sue held up her backpack, she grinned, "Oh, yes. My notebooks are with me all of the time. We still need to report this to the authorities."

"You're right; we need to talk to the sheriff about Yolanda anyway. I'll make the report then."

Pat led Mary up the stairs to the main lobby. At the top, he turned to her and said, "I have a confession to make. I couldn't sleep last night."

Mary beamed and wondered if his dreams were a reflection of hers.

"That name Yolanda - there was just something familiar about it. While I was shaving this morning, it hit me. I found something while I was cleaning the library loft last summer."

"Really? About Yolanda?"

He shrugged and explained, "I'm a one man show around here, librarian, janitor, grounds keeper and maintenance man all rolled into one. I found a large steamer trunk that had been gathering dust for eons. I found a bunch of antique woman's clothes; I mean bustles and high button shoes old, they were all museum quality and well preserved. I searched the trunk trying to find out who they might belong to and I came across a notebook with flowers drawn on the cover.

"The flyleaf inside had a very unusual name penned on it: It had a very strange name I think it was ‘Yandilo.’ It had been neatly scratched out and replaced in the same fancy script with the name ‘Yolanda.’"

Mary Sue's eyes lit up. "Are you sure?”

"Words are how I make my living, something that unusual makes an impression. So yes I am sure."

"Please can we go look now before we go to the police station?"

"Of course," Pat said with a smile. He led her to the foot of a narrow stairway on the south wall that led up to a trap door in the ceiling 18 feet above. "It's up there, wait here. Last time I was up there the light bulb was burnt out. I have a spare in the utility closet, I'll be right back."

Mary was antsy with anticipation and didn't want to wait. Halfway up she was glad that she had decided on pants today, she had thought about putting on a dress. Climbing ladders or stairways and flashing her underwear just wasn't her style.

Pat was in the rear of the library looking for a replacement lightbulb when he heard Mary scream. He took off at a dead run figuring he must have missed the intruders and they had surprised her. He slid to a stop on the polished wood floors, inches from a shaken Mary Sue.

"What is it, did you see someone?"

"I was attacked!"

Confused, Pat asked, “Who attacked you? Where are they?"

"Not who but, what! I opened the trap door and it charged me, it was gruesome with gigantic teeth. I almost fell all the way down the stairs."

More bewildered than ever, Pat said, "Wait here, I'll go get a flashlight. Hold this and don't move. I mean it this time." He handed her the lightbulb.

Pat returned with a flashlight in hand. As he reached the top, he flicked on the flashlight and carefully opened the door a crack to shine the light in. Thirty seconds later, he flipped the door all the way open and disappeared from view. If he hadn’t been a gentleman and didn’t need her help, he would have been laughing hysterically.

He looked back out the door and called down to her “I see the problem but I need you to go behind the front desk and get the box that is on the floor. Then I need you, the box and the light bulb up here.”

“What's the problem?” she asked

“One, I need the light bulb to free up my hand. Two, I need to put something in the box. Three, you’re going to help me get it in the box.”

“What’s going in the box?”

“Come on city girl don’t tell me you’re scared.” He chided with a chuckle.

“I’m not scared I just want to be prepared,” she muttered to herself as she went for the box. “Besides, I grew up on a farm.”

When Mary came back, with the bulb and the box, she tapped on the attic door. Pat reached out to take the box from her and she edged into the loft. There were far too many shadows in the room to be able to see whatever was lurking.

Pat replaced the burnt-out bulb and the loft was immediately filled with light. Pat smiled, “Now for the fun part. We have to catch our friend over there.” He aimed the flashlight beam into the corner. Two little red eyes gleamed at the pair. Mary was embarrassed to see that the creature she had been so scared of was a scrawny possum.

Pat handed Mary the box, “You follow me holding this open so I can put him in it. When I get him in you close the box as quick as you can. They have a nasty bite, so we don’t want to him the opportunity for a New York City taste test.”

“And just how do you plan on catching that wild animal?” The varmint was a typical possum, incredibly ugly.

“Well…the way I have done it in the past seems to work well,” Pat turned off the flash light causing the opossum to blink. He slowly walked toward the animal. As he got closer, it did the strangest thing, it fell over.” Pat reached out quickly to grab the possum by the scuff of the neck. Just as fast, he turned and put the opossum into the box. He helped Mary Sue to close the box as the critter started clawing to get out.

"This is what attacked you, right?"

An embarrassed Mary meekly said, "It looked a lot different in the dark. Besides it snarled at me. I never liked these things while I was growing up either."

They took the boxed animal outside where they released it in the yard outside. As they watched it waddle off to the woods, Mary Sue asked, “Do you wrangle opossums a lot?”

“No, just enough to know that if you move slowly they play dead, you move fast they freak out, just like some women.”

@ @ @ @

Mary Sue allowed Pat to lead the way back up the stairs. Once in the loft, it was relatively easy to find the trunk he was looking for. As he pulled it across the floor, Mary Sue bit her lower lip in anticipation. She could see that the trunk was very old, she was surprised by how well preserved it appeared to be. As Pat opened it, Mary Sue was surprised to smell the pleasant aroma of violets. On top of the clothing inside, she could see a spray of dried violets that must have still retained their scent after all these years.

Pat fished around among the old clothing inside for the notebook he was talking about, taking pains to avoid damaging the flowers. He drew out the book and reverently held it out to Mary Sue and, bowing from the waist, said in his best English accent, "My lady, your treasure."

Mary Sue took the leather bound book and held it as if it were a fragile newborn bird. She ran her fingers over the flowers etched into the cover. The edges were worn from use. As she opened the cover to look inside, she held her breath for fear that the pages would crumbled in her fingers. She was thrilled to find that the pages were not pulp paper that seldom lasted longer than a few years. Instead, each page seemed to be made of parchment, which added a lot to the book’s longevity.

As Pat had said, she saw that the name Yolanda had been written in above Yandilo’s. The handwriting certainly appeared to be the same, she hoped that the reason the owner changed their name was somewhere inside. She scanned one page and then another and another. Just the beginning of the diary told her that she was holding a true window into the past. With eyes wide, she looked up.

"Listen to this," she said excitedly and she read some passages from the beginning of the book.

May 1896 –
My name is Yandilo Petalengro. Mama has given me this this journal for my 15th birthday. She says now that I have almost finished school, she is going to teach me all she knows about herbs and flowers. This journal is for me to write in as I learn from her. I will be able to help gather things she needs without her by my side.

With this training I could make an honest living as a healer. I don’t think she is happy with how father supports us. She says it isn’t good to go through life taking things from others. I think that she wants father to get a job instead of gambling and stealing. My teacher says I am a good enough student that I could get a teacher certificate as well. I like both ideas. I will help Mother for now.

June 1896
I helped Mama today with the birth of Samuel Anderson. Mrs. Anderson sent her daughter Susan to get Mama because she needed help delivering her baby. Mama said that she might need me. I didn’t know what I could do to help but went with her. When we got to the house, I could hear Mrs. Anderson. I have never heard a noise like that before. I stayed by the door while mama went to check. Susan just stared at me with her big green eyes. I don’t think she’d heard anything like that either.

Samuel Anderson was born four hours later. I got to hold him for a little while. He was so small and helpless. Mama has helped with a lot of births but this was my first. Mama said that this was a breach birth and she had to do something special to help the baby. I will have to ask her later what she did.

Mary Sue scanned through the book, stopping every few pages and looked up with tears of joy in her eyes. She held the book out toward Pat. "Do you have any idea what this is? It’s Yolanda's personal journal, it looks like she chronicled the entire trek here. This is absolutely priceless; I could kiss you." She noted to herself that Yandilo appeared to be educated and literate, she wished that she could have known him. She looked at the remainder of the diary briefly, seeing that every page was filled with neat, readable script.

Pat stood by, watching Mary Sue look through her treasure. He realized she was just caught up in the moment, but didn't care. It would be unconscionably ill-mannered to simply let it pass and not take advantage of her offer. He stepped around the trunk that stood between them and slid his arms around her.

She jumped in surprise at his touch, but she didn’t feel threatened like she had when the cowboy had tried to grab her. She peered up at him, her breath catching briefly as she took in the expression on his face and the hunger in his deep blue eyes. The excitement she felt over the journal melded with some of her dreams from the night before. She smiled at him as he bent toward her. Her eyes closed as his lips touched hers. Her mouth was soft and warm. Just as he knew they would be. He moved slowly and he felt her relax into him. His hand slid up her back to the back of her head. His fingers filled with her hair. His kiss deepened as he cradled her head. Much sooner then he would have liked he gently pulled away. Her eyes fluttered open and he smiled down at her.

He inhaled the rose scent in her hair, loving the feel of holding her in his arms.

"Now I know what they mean about moving slowly with women. I need to ask. Do you have a boyfriend back in New York?"

Mary was unsure where this conversation was headed. She knew how she wanted to interpret his question, but how did he mean it? Did he want this to be something serious or was he only interested in a fling? After all, she didn’t live here. So she hedged her bets, "I am seeing someone."

Seeing the devastation on his face she went on, "It's not serious, we are just acquaintances at this point."

"You don't love him?"

Her eyes widened as she replied emphatically, Oh, heavens no!" As if Friedman would ever be anything more than a colleague and her advisor. Even thinking of the man in a romantic context made her feel ill. She had just realized that she had totally misrepresented her relationship with her professor in an attempt to keep this relationship from moving too fast.

They stood their faces only a breath apart.

He merely spoke her name, "Mary." It was a mere groan on his lips as he took her in his arms and kissed her again. It went from sweet, warm embers as their lips first met, to the roar of a full-blown blaze as his tongue pushed past her soft unresisting lips. Their hearts beat as one.

Mary remembered her dream and knew that it paled in comparison to the real thing. She could even smell the violets from her dream. Fire seemed to creep down her body like a fuse with sparks shooting off in all directions. Soon the heat would be more then she could take.

He pulled her against his chest, his hand sliding to the base of her spine and he applied gentle pressure, their bodies fitting perfectly together. Pat felt an excitement unlike anything he had ever experienced before, it was pure unadulterated pleasure. His heart leapt, she stole his very strength. His legs were shaking. Mary's body melted in his arms like chocolate over a warm fire. Her arms slid up around his neck, her hands gripping his hair, her lips opening hungrily beneath his inquisitive tongue. It seemed to him it had just begun when she gently pushed him away.

Pat eased his hold on her but, not letting go. He wasn’t sure of his own balance and he could feel her trembling as well. They stood looking into each other’s eye. Both breathless struggling with feelings neither knew what to do with.

Softly he said, "I’ve wanted to do that since I first met you. Mary, you are a beautiful lady."

Mary swallowed as a shiver swept over her. Feeling out of her depth she cast her eyes about looking for something to distract her. She was hard pressed to explain her weak-kneed, response to the kiss. She had been kissed before but this was different.

She managed to create a little distance between them. Pat looked at her flushed face and inquired, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine,” She answered, the blush in her face making it obvious that she was lying. “It’s just a bit warm up here. Perhaps we better go. You still need to report the break-in to the police." She carefully put the journal in her bag as they made their way back to the main floor.

As they walked, Pat inhaled deeply. “I thought that I smelled roses in your hair,” he commented. “But all I can smell right now is lavender.”

Mary Sue stopped for a moment and sniffed. “I thought that I was imagining things, but I think that it is actually violets.” She was not ready to tell Pat that she had been dreaming about him. “I don’t know where it came from though. My conditioner is rose scented, it must be the sachet from the trunk.”

Pat looked thoughtful and then replied, “That trunk is almost a 100 years old. How could flowers retain their scent that long?”

Mary Sue shrugged and said, “It’s the only explanation that makes any sense.”

They continued out the door where Pat relocked it. It was a dazzling sunlit day and the police station was only a few blocks away. Pat reached down and took Mary Sue's hand. As they walked hand-in-hand, they could see the rear of the diner Liz worked at. The door opened and two women came out. Pat and Mary Sue watched as they
stopped to talk in the shade of a large oak tree.

Mary Sue asked, "Isn't that Liz? Who's she with?"

Pat squinted in the bright sunshine to see and replied, "Yeah, that's Liz and Samantha, the sheriff's wife."

Mary waved a friendly hello and Liz returned it with equal sociability. Samantha, on the other hand, retreated behind Liz, as if she was trying to be invisible.

Mary concerned inquired. "The sheriff's wife, I don't want to get you in trouble, or subject you to possible scandal. Do you think she'll tell her husband she saw us together?"

Pat laughed heartedly, "Mary, I can tell you don't know how small towns work. You blow your nose and everyone within cell phone coverage knows the color of your handkerchief. Gossip is a fact of life, besides I'm proud to be seen with a beautiful woman. Let the wags say what they want."

Mary turned to him and took a step into Pat's personal space so that they were almost nose-to-nose. "In that case, do you want to give them something to gossip about?"

If he was shocked by the question, he didn't show it. Mary shifted uncomfortably embarrassed by her forward behavior. "I'm sorry. Please forget that I --."

Her words died in her throat as Pat pulled her into an embrace. Mary gasped in surprise; Pat took full advantage of that, his tongue sweeping in to enjoy her sweetness.

Then a horrified voice from a gray haired woman walking her dog spoke out, "Patrick, what are you doing right there on the sidewalk in front of God and everyone, you should be ashamed." The look on the lady’s face really did not seem too outraged though.

Pat smiled broadly, not embarrassed at all; he wanted this woman.

“Good morning Harriet. This is Mary Sue from New York. We’re working together on some library research.” Then he grinned impishly, “I was going to ask her if she wanted to do some research this evening for dinner. What do you think?”

Harriet returned Pat’s easy smile and said, “I think that would be a nice thing. You make a good looking couple.” Harriet winked at them and allowed her spaniel to pull her down the street.

In his entire life, Pat had never contemplated marriage. But after two days, Mary Sue was all he could think about. Pat had never felt this way to this extent about a woman before. His experience with many of the women here in town had them throwing themselves at him many times. Mary was different. She was smart, independent, and irresistible. His body was ready for her now, but he knew that like that opossum, he needed to move slowly. He wanted to have her with him at every meal, and much, much, more. He wanted to make her feel safe and loved.

For her part, Mary wasn't paying attention to their route; she was just enjoying her time with Pat. She looked up and saw that they were passing the town's only fire station. Mary had hold of Pat's hand and pulled him toward the open bay door. Pat led her past the gleaming red fire engine. Mary stopped to stare when suddenly a gravelly voice spoke from behind startled her. "She's a beauty ain't she? Diesel engine, with seats for five, a brand new Navstar system, and it has a 1,000 gallon self-contained water tank."

Mary turned and realized she had seen this guy before at the café while eating breakfast. Pat made the introductions, "Miss McLaughlin, let me introduce you to our fire chief. Dave, this here is Mary Sue."

"Yes, I've heard all about you. How is your research going? Productive I hope."

"I'm sorry; I didn't catch your name." She was just antsy enough to want to be cagy about what she was doing here in town.

The fire chief was an older gentleman, with the dark leathery skin that seemed to defy you to guess at an age. She could see that he had a lot of Native American in him. A friendly smile split his face as he held out a big meaty paw and said, "I'm Dave Wilson. I've been the fire chief her since you were knee high to a grass hopper, everyone just calls me Chief. I'm the only full time fireman, the rest of my crew are volunteers, 6 men and 2 women."

Mary took charge, Pat as Watson stood back and listened, "Chief, the library was broken into last night. But thieves used a key to gain entry. I understand you have a copy."

"Why sure, the keys to all public building are hanging on the rack in my office. I didn't notice any missing but I can look if you would like."

After a quick count, the Chief announced, "They're all accounted for. Course this place is never locked; anyone could have borrowed it for a spell."

After a quick thank you, the couple resumed their walk.

As they got to the Sheriff's office, Pat told Mary, "Let me do the talking."

"That's fine with me, that guy gives me the creeps."