The Crying Bridge

The Crying Bridge--Chapter 15

 The home of the Historical Society was just that, a home. It was a small brick house with a good-sized porch and a brass doorknocker. Del wasn't sure if she was supposed to knock or just go in, so she tested the knob which proved to be locked. She lifted and dropped the brass knocker twice. Moments later, an elderly gentleman, probably in his early seventies opened the door with a vague smile. "Yes, ma'am?" he inquired.

"Hi," Del said. "I was wondering if John Wilson is in today?

"He is and I am him," the man said. "Please come in."

Del entered the foyer and followed the man to a small sitting room with a dining table and several chairs and a brick fireplace against the far wall. The room was decorated in an antique fashion with wallpaper depicting large pink cabbage roses and lacy curtains on all the windows.

John Wilson gestured for Del to take a seat at the table and he sat down across from her. "What brings you to the County Historical Society today?" he asked amiably.

"My name is Del Granger," she began, "and I got your business card from Sadie..." She realized she didn't know Sadie's last name.

"Burrows," Mr. Wilson filled in. "There's only one Sadie who has any of my business cards. Haven't spoken to her in a few weeks. I trust she's well?"

"Yes," Del said. "I am trying to gather information about a woman who may have lived on my property at some point in the past. I live in Martinson, well outside of town, but that zip code."

"Lovely town," Mr. Wilson said. "Do you know how long ago we're talking about?"

Del shook her head. "Unfortunately, no," she said. She hesitated, not wanting this man to think she was crazy by relating some old ghost story. "I think that something might have happened, something really terrible to a woman named Emma Bates and her son, Caleb."

John Wilson arched his brow. "The woman who killed her baby then herself?"

"You know the story?" Del asked, truly surprised. How long has this story been around? She wondered.

"I know it well," Mr. Wilson said. "You have to understand, it was quite a tragedy at the time. Of course, it would be a tragedy at any time. But back in those days, in towns as small as Martinson, it was big news, the only news for years."

"So it really happened?" Del asked, not surprised at all.

Mr. Wilson nodded. "Indeed it did. I believe it was in 1927 or so. The young woman, Emma Bates had a baby but no husband, which you must understand was quite scandalous at the time. She rented a small house from the old woman who owned the property at the time. I think the woman's name was Otis or Orris, something like that, I can't remember. Anyway, Miss Bates was always on time with her rent, walked it to the old woman on the first of every month without fail. But then one month, she just didn't show up. The old woman's son was home for a visit and she sent him over to check on Emma and collect the rent. When he got there, there was no one home. He went inside and found a note on the kitchen table saying she couldn't live like this with all the shame and wouldn't raise a bastard child, that she had taken his life and her own. The son found Emma's body hanging from the bridge, but the baby's body was never found."

Del just sat there looking at him with her mouth hanging open. He had filled in a lot more details than Evan's story had offered. There were some minor discrepancies, but there always are when truth becomes spoken legend passed down through generations. "That's unbelievable," Del finally said. "And so sad. Mr. Wilson, did anyone ever suspect foul play? That someone else might have done harm to Emma and Caleb?"