The Kidnapper's Wife

30. After

                  

Daleville, Virginia. That's what the sign says as I pull off the highway and into the parking lot of a Cracker Barrel.

For the first part of my drive, I survived solely on Chik-fil-a chocolate milkshakes and an excess of Dunkin Donut's boston crème donuts, but about an hour ago I started craving real food and when I saw the sign for Cracker Barrel, I couldn't resist.

Stepping out of my car, it hits me that it's been months since I've been in a restaurant. In front of me, a group of eight or nine elderly ladies in red hats sits in rocking chairs, laughing and chatting amicably. They don't notice me at all.

Before last October, I never would have been caught dead in a restaurant alone. At least not a sit down restaurant. I would have felt awkward, like everyone was staring at me and thinking "This girl is a loser, out to eat alone."

But now, I revel in the anonymity. It's refreshing to be out of Frederick, out of the state of Maryland. Here, in this random town in southern Virginia, no one knows who I am. And it feels glorious.

After ordering my standard, chicken and dumplings with sides of macaroni and cheese, fried apples, and more dumplings, from the smiling waitress wearing too much makeup, I stare out the window for a few minutes before checking my phone. When I unlock the screen, the first thing that pops up is the screenshot of the Facebook event I've saved. It's a poster for a nightclub in Nashville.

"Keith Henry!" a southern drawl jolts me from my phone-induced stupor, "I just love him!"

I look up to see the waitress staring down at my phone as she sets my food on the table.

"Sorry, couldn't help but notice," she says unabashedly, gesturing at the phone.

"That's okay," I look at her carefully, taking in her softly curled, too-blond hair and her bright blue eye shadow. "Have you ever heard of any of these supporting performers?"

The woman squints down at my phone, considering. "Let's see Allan Lewis is really good, definitely don't miss him. He even has a few original songs that are catchy. I've never heard of Ellie Thompson or Bethany Harold. But Bridget Cooley...that name sounds familiar. I'm trying to think..." she sets her tray down on the edge of the table and looks upward, as if the answer lies somewhere in the ceiling above us. "My girlfriends and I try to do a girls trip down to Nashville every few months. It's such a nice getaway and we all just love country music. Oh! I remember now! Bridget Cooley, she was really big a few years back, this innocent sweet little country crooner. But as she grew up she got more of a pop style and you know, people in Nashville want to hear country not pop. She has a great voice though so I guess she's still booking shows."

I decide to go out on a limb, "What about...did you ever hear of a performer called, Connor?" at the last minute I leave out the last name. I'm worried maybe I've said too much and she'll realize who I am, but she just scrunches her face up again, thinking.

"Connor....I do think I remember seeing someone with that name making the Nashville circuits. It must have been a few years ago though..."

I swipe into my photos on my phone and, scrolling way back, manage to find one of Connor without me. It's one of our vacations and he's holding a coconut in his bathing suit on a beach in Thailand.

"Him?" I hold the phone up for her to look at.

"Oh! Yes! CC!"

"CC?"

"Yes, his name was Connor Carter, so people would call him CC. He got pretty popular for a while, but then he just disappeared completely. He had a pretty big fandom going, at least for a local singer. Of course it didn't hurt that he looked well, like that." She indicates the phone.