“Mind if I open the basket?” Mac asked. He could hardly contain his excitement about sampling the pie.
“Of course not. It’s yours. You paid quite a lot for a peach pie and some sparkling cider.”
Mac swung his gaze up from the basket. “There’s sparkling cider in here? Score!”
Delilah grinned at him, showcasing a pearly smile. Her cheeks were rosy. Although she had never seemed like the shy type, he was finding out that she responded to praise with a hint of embarrassment.
Mac opened up the basket and took out the peach pie along with two forks. He took out the sparkling cider and two small plastic cups. Small dessert plates were at the bottom. He placed a plate in front of her, along with a fork.
“Maybe you should do the honors,” Mac suggested, holding out the knife. His fingers brushed against Delilah’s as she took the knife from him. Her skin was soft. He looked down at his own callused and rough hands. Woodworking didn’t lend itself to beautiful hands. But his hands were strong and powerful. Mac gave God constant praise for allowing him to work at a craft he loved and for giving him the skilled hands to do so.
As Delilah sliced up the pie and they both began eating their portions, they enjoyed a companionable silence. Mac helped himself to another slice while Delilah could barely finish the first one. The pie was sweet and succulent. His taste buds were rejoicing as the juicy peaches hit his tongue. The crust had been baked to perfection. It crumbled in his mouth. “Mmm. This is really delicious.”
“Worth one hundred bucks?” she teased. Her blue eyes flashed. A strand of her red hair fell across her forehead. An artist could make a fortune sketching Delilah. Her movements were natural and full of grace. Her beauty was radiant. He was having a hard time focusing on conversation when she looked this beautiful.
“It was money well spent,” Mac said.
Delilah took a bite of her pie and for a few moments they simply sat and enjoyed the delicious treat.
Delilah placed her plate down on the grass. “So, I found something interesting in the database. I located your information, Mac. Nothing whatsoever about Callie. No file. Nothing under Callie or Caledonia Monahan.”
Mac felt his spirits sink. The ache of disappointment pierced him like a knife. Although he’d known this quest was a long-shot, it still hurt to be met with dead ends.
“But I did find something that might help,” Delilah said.
“What did you find?” Suddenly, his heart was thrumming like crazy. In a matter of seconds he’d gone from despair back to hope.
“A newspaper article on microfiche. I converted it to digital once I found an article about your case.”
He knit his brows together. “An article? About me?” The news was shocking. He’d never known about a newspaper article.
Delilah’s expression turned somber. “Yes, Mac. It was a short item in the Farmington, Massachusetts Gazette, but it detailed how you were removed from the home and how the police were looking for your mother and stepfather. ”
Mac’s mouth felt dry. “And it only mentioned me? Not Callie.”
“Yes, although your actual name wasn’t mentioned. Just your age and the circumstances. They probably didn’t print your name due to laws about publishing information about minors. It references your mother’s name which is how Monahan came up in my search. And there’s a picture of you sitting in the back of the ambulance. There must have been a journalist there that night and a news photographer. And there’s a little girl in the photo…just a little shot of her in the corner of the frame. She appears to be about five or so with long hair. She’s wearing a unicorn shirt.”
“Callie,” Mac said in a raspy voice. “I remember that shirt. She got it for her birthday.”
A chill raced down his back. Despite the spring weather, goosebumps popped up on his arms.
“So this is proof right? Proof that she really does exist?” he asked in a ragged voice.
She bit her lip. “It might be, Mac. I don’t want you to get your hopes up, but I think it might be her in the newspaper photo. The pictures are on my computer. And the article also. You’re welcome to come by and take a look whenever you want or you can stop by my office.”
“I’d like that,” Mac said. “Let me know when. I’m eager to see it.”
“Even more importantly, I’m sure there were more photos taken that night. The real question in my mind is—does the photographer have other photos from that night? And if so, maybe you can use that photo in the search for Callie.”
Mac was stunned. In a matter of days Delilah had uncovered what might be the only image of Callie on film. It was staggering news. He couldn’t even think of words in the English language that could even begin to capture the gratitude he felt toward Delilah. She had gone above and beyond in order to help him.