The Unmaking of June Farrow(18)

“Ms. Farrow?”

My eyes darted around the room until I spotted Thomas Falk, the minister. He stood in the doorway at the corner of the sanctuary, forehead scrunched like he wasn’t sure what he was seeing. His dark hair was freshly cut, and the pressed button-up shirt he wore was tucked into his pants.

“Hi,” I said, my voice tight.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Can’t pretend I’m not surprised to see you here.”

I looked down at my feet, acutely aware that I didn’t actually want to cross the threshold.

“Afraid you’ll burst into flames?”

My gaze flickered up, finding his expression changed. Now he looked amused.

I dragged the toe of my boot over the lip of the floor, taking me one step inside.

He walked toward me, hands tucked into his pockets. “What can I do for you?”

I had the sudden urge to look over my shoulder to be sure that no one was listening. “Actually, I was told that the church keeps records—marriages and births, things like that.”

“That’s right.”

“I was hoping you could look something up for me.”

“And what is that?”

“I’m trying to track down a birth record. She would have been born sometime before 1900.”

“I see.” He lifted an eyebrow. “We do have records from that time. Why don’t you come back and we’ll see what we can find?”

I hesitated before finding my way up the center aisle, past the pews to the doorway that led to what looked like an office. Thomas disappeared inside, his shadow flitting over the wooden floorboards.

The room was small but packed tight with a desk, a wall of built-in shelves that was filled with books, and a few chairs that looked as old as the pews out in the sanctuary. The only thing that didn’t belong was the sleek black computer on the desk.

Thomas sat down in the leather rolling chair, giving the mouse a shake. “You can have a seat, if you’d like.”

“Thanks.” I tried to sound more comfortable than I was, taking the chair against the window and pulling my bag into my lap. The view overlooked the widest part of the river, where a few boulders split the water into four sections that ran white over the rocks.

“Thankfully, birth records have all been digitized now, which should make this pretty simple,” he said, eyeing me over the computer screen. “Who is it we’re looking for?”

My mother’s name felt like it was lodged in my throat. There wasn’t anyone in Jasper who wouldn’t recognize it.

“It’s Susanna Farrow, actually.”

The shape of his mouth changed. He stared at me.

“A different Susanna Farrow. Someone further back in the family.”

“Oh. Same spelling?” He relaxed just enough for me to notice.

I nodded.

He typed, hitting the keys in a steady rhythm, but he frowned when his eyes ran over the screen. “I don’t see anything here. Do you know anything else about her? Parents’ names, maybe?”

I shook my head. “No, that’s what I was trying to find out. She was married to Nathaniel Rutherford.”

Thomas’s expression changed again, and he sat back in the chair, his elbows finding the armrests. “Really.”

I waited, unsure of what his reaction meant.

“If that’s what you’re after, you can just say it, Ms. Farrow. You’re not the first person who’s come to this church trying to dig up information about that case.”

“I’m not trying to dig up anything,” I said, realizing that wasn’t quite true. “A woman with the same name as my mother was married to Nathaniel, and I’m just trying to figure out who she was.”

He surveyed me, and I had the distinct feeling he was trying to decide if I was lying.

“Really. I don’t care anything about the minister.” That was the truth.

“Well, I imagine there’s not much documentation on her since she died so young.”

“What?” I sat up straighter in my chair.

“Oh, yes. Nathaniel is well known because of the murder, of course. But his story was quite tragic long before then.”

“What happened?”

“Well,” Thomas said on an exhale. “His father was the minister at this church for years, but he died of a heart attack just after Nathaniel married. He was just a young man.” His hand lifted, a finger pointing to the open door that led to the sanctuary. “He was preaching God’s word at that very pulpit when it happened.”

I couldn’t help but look. The simple white wooden podium stood up a few steps on a small stage that overlooked the pews.

“Nathaniel took over his father’s position. But not long after, he and his wife had a daughter and she died.”

“Daughter?” My voice bent the word.

Thomas’s bottom lip jutted out. “She was just a baby. His wife never recovered. They say she lost her mind.”

I cringed. If I’d had any doubt left that she really was a Farrow, that one detail extinguished it.

“She took her own life up at Longview Falls. Like I said—tragic.”

My lips parted, a deep, dull pain erupting behind my ribs.

“Nathaniel never remarried, dedicating his life to the congregation of this church. He’s buried out there. His wife and daughter, too.”